


wtf video game real

by thisisgermy



Series: huuh whaaaaat [7]
Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: American Sign Language, Arson, Black Mesa Sweet Voice(tm), Body Horror, Bonus Fic, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Fluff, Found Family, Gross Out, Inhuman, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Drabbles, Mute Gordon Freeman, Rain, Reality Bending, Retail Worker, Sharing a Bed, Sick Character, Slice of Life, Slow Dancing, Spiders, Tags to be added, Time Skips, Video Game Mechanics In The Real World, Wikipedia article, YouTube Gamers - Freeform, YouTubers - Freeform, a mild bank robbery, also: the players name can be anything youd like it to be! a bit late for this tag, and its melee, apart from this first chapter this entire thing is unbetaed, averted existential crisis, barley beta read, benrey picks up a wolf spider lets go gamers, c_spawn("caddy"), dancing and dipping, dr coomer and bubby are gay, fiction invades real life! ooo spooky, forgot to add that tag, getting jobs, im still shit at tagging, it was just a video game, j.peg real, lots of tags under the word 'job' huh!, mention of other games, mild nudity, now with capitalisation!, one line of nsfw text, puke, science team with jobs what crimes will they commit, soda branded clothing, soft, swears, tall benrey, thank you for all the kind words and gentle criticism! I appreciate it very much!, the joys of working retail aahahaha, this has come a long way huh!, uh oh we got some gamers, video game models in real life, wahoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisgermy/pseuds/thisisgermy
Summary: You ever play a video game, and then six months later, the characters from that same video game are suddenly in your house? Baller, dude.
Relationships: Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Dr Coomer & The Player, Everyone & Everyone, Gordon Freeman & Benrey, Sunkist & Everyone, The G-Man & Forzen, The Player & Everyone, The Player & Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta & Darnold
Series: huuh whaaaaat [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739653
Comments: 80
Kudos: 276





	1. (It's all fucked up) So I got a little older, I got everything I thought I'd need

**Author's Note:**

> you think i know what the fuck im doing? laughable. im posting this before my confidence in it drains to 0, and right now it's at a very shaky 1  
> this first chapter was beta read by my wonderful friend louie!!! (even though i edited some stuff AFTER because i cannot help myself) thank you again, muah < 3!!! go check out their art stuff, it's absolutely stellar: https://hocopoko.tumblr.com/  
> also the lyrics to each chapter is gonna be from the song "hazy" by red vox (if it fits)! pog  
> LETS GO

**started: 5/6/2020**

* * *

Six months since he'd finished Half Life in VR and listened to Dr Coomer's final message.

Fifteen days spent trying to unpack everything. Had that actually happened? Had the A.I's really been self aware? What did that mean for them? Were they in constant pain, even with the end of the game? Where were they now? Were there any other video games he'd played that contained self aware A.I's at he was unaware of? That last thought was disheartening as fuck to even consider, so he pushed it out of his mind completely. 

It didn't take long to convince himself to do something - anything - to try and help the group out. Annoyingly, he was human, and though he hated to admit it, the guilt he felt was far too strong to ignore, a heavy weight lodged at the bottom of his stomach that was stubborn to leave. 

The gamer instinct within told him "hey, maybe their data files is a good first step!", so he used that as his life-line. Even though it took hours upon hours of self hype to get himself into action, and then a few hours more to locate their files within the slew of Half-Life data, he'd managed to drag every single A.I (even Forzen and Benrey, after another hour of "but's" and "why's") into their own little folder, appropriately titled "well here you go". He frowned at the monitor, before deciding it best to move their folder onto his desktop. He dumped it at the bottom right of the screen, stared at it for an agonisingly long time, and then called it a day.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting after that. An explosion, maybe. Something weird, honestly. But all he was met with was silence. The desktop didn't glitch, the screen didn't ripple; no hands reached for his arm, and no voices whispered obscenities to him. The silence only put him further on edge.

So once everything in that field had been sorted to the best of his ability, he let the computer fall into sleep mode, and then refused to touch it for two solid months. It was anticlimactic, honestly. All of that time and effort, only to be met with silence? 

Either way, even with the lackluster beginning, he refused to push his luck any further; anything he had to do on the internet was conducted on his older, slower laptop. He didn't spare a single glance at the computer room, both it and the VR headset allowed to inhale dust behind a firmly closed door. The same was said for every other game console he owned; he sure as _fuck_ didn't want another self-aware-A.I-arm-possibly-chopped-off-forced-to-reevaluate-his-own-existence experience any time soon. _Especially_ so soon. Never to happen _again_ , if he could help it.

He was no modder, nor did he know a single thing about coding a bunch of pre-constructed data into another game, especially when the A.I's were from the late 90's and were aware of their state of being. He had no clue what to do with the A.I's data other than store them on his desktop. He also had zero idea on how else to help them out, or where else to drag them to. He didn't even know if he _should_ be helping them. 

If he dumped then into an emulator, would that hurt them? Would it corrupt their "states"? Would they fuck up the game, and then fuck up the computer in turn? Would they die if the computer got fucked up? If he put their data into a mod-able game wrong, would it cause them more harm than good? Could they "die"? What would happen if he put their folder onto a flash drive? Is the computer their main life source? Would they not be able to function at all if he transported them over to a flash drive? Would those types of attempted transitions corrupt them to unworkable points, or wipe their memory's clean all together, or delete them from the system entirely? 

How could you even Google questions like that? "ai self aware what do", "how to help aware ai without killing them" "how the fuck can ai be self aware" "top ten signs i am loosing my marbles"

He hoped, for his own sanity, that what he'd done for them would be enough. Though he knew, deep down, it wouldn't be.

But there was very little else he _could_ do. 

After another two months of avoidance, he'd decided to boot up the main comp to see if anything had changed, born from boredom and a sick, twisted curiosity. The folder containing the A.I's was still in the same place he'd left it; things seemed in tact and in order, nothing had glitched, and no programs had been accessed in his absence. He didn't linger long enough to see if anything _would_ happen. He checked his emails in record time, then made the effort to sign out of every website, before letting it fall back into sleep mode once more, the door left to swing shut.

Another uneventful month passed. Everything had been unpacked and processed in his head. He'd moved on from the experience, though the trauma and weak phantom pains remained, however brief. He still refused to touch the main computer, or the VR headset - not even any game consoles had been switched on since The End, still timid of the Possibility. He still had nightmares of Black Mesa, still didn't fancy being in the dark for long periods of time, still couldn't quite look at himself in the eye. Still rose his right arm as if it bared a mini-gun at things that made him jump, though he was getting far better at restraint. 

One day. He walked into the room holding his possessed computer to grab a misplaced cup and saw it turned on, the fan a scream of activity. A word document was stretched across the screen, the words "SAVE FREEMAN" staring him in the face. He watched, frozen, as more words began to fill out the document, even though the keyboard wasn't being manipulated in any way by a physical entity. 

"HELLO FAKE GORDON FREEMAN PLEASE SAVE THE REAL GORDON FREEMAN" 

'What the fuck.' The document was cleared of text with an unseen force. He felt shivers climb down his spine. He felt like a million sets of eyes were locked on his person. 

"PLEASE SAVE THE REAL GORDON FREEMAN" The document said again, no author behind the sentence. "HELP HIM HE IS LIKE US you look different Who are you HElllOo PLEASE SAVE THE REAL GORDON HE IS NO LONGER A PUPPET HE IS LIKE US HE KNOWS AND STILL IS TRAPPED IN THERE" The word document was minimised, instead replaced for the inner guts of the Half-Life files. It was an amalgamation of sound effects and texture folders, all file names he'd seen before, but one stood out, a folder he had never taken full notice of. 

"youre not gordon freeman" The word document popped up again, scaring him enough to raise his right arm at the monitor. It almost sounded accusatory. It almost made him laugh. The words brought back bitter memories he'd rather have left buried under ten tons of metaphorical dirt. 

'No shit asshole, if you're supposed to be self aware then you'd know that by now.' He spat at the screen despite himself. God, he was talking to a computer now. What a fucking life he had.

"PLAYER" The document quickly replaced. He slowly scooted over to the computer and sat down in the chair, much like a deer approaching a car. The VR headset, as if a taunt, was still beside the monitor, unplugged and unused. He ignored it.

Before his hands could hover over the keyboard, the word document minimised back into the bowels of Half-Life, and suddenly he wasn't so sure about what he was doing and what he had done and what he was about to do. Still, he willed himself to drag the "player" folder over to the desktop, and put it into the "well here you go" folder, too stunned to think his actions through. The word document sprung back to the screen the second the folder was accepted, and he could almost _feel_ a sense of happiness radiate through the LCD monitor. 

_Have I officially lost it_?

"THANK YOU yooo cooler gordon It is good to see you again Gordon Mr fReemAAn!!!! HELLO REAL GORDON yo fake gordon you look weiiiiiird" 

He bolted from the room, faster than he'd ever ran in his life, the chair being knocked over in his wake, the only clean cup in the house left forgotten. He slammed the door shut, leaned against it, and panted, heart frantic and head full with thoughts and nerves and revelations.

... 

Okay. ... So. The A.I were officially awake now, and it seemed that they could control his programs with ease. ... What else could they access? They could apparently see him, hear him; what could _that_ possibly mean? What would that _entail_? They were self aware A.I, not. Not cryptic monsters. Right? How could they see him? To his knowledge, he didn't have a webcam, and even if he did, he wouldn't think a bunch of fucking _A.I_ could use it to their advantage. 

What the _fuck_?

One day. He sat huddled in his room, re-sorting through information in a hectic haze, until his brain became nothing but fried mush and white noise.

One day. He opened the door holding the computer and saw the screen blank and the chair still on the floor. He sighed in relief. Maybe that day _had_ been a dream after all. But then the computer suddenly beeped to life at his sigh, the fan beginning to whirr, and a word document was the first thing he saw flash on to the screen. He pummelled the door shut before a single letter could grace his vision. He spent the rest of his day frantically doodling in his art book. 

One day. He bolted not one, but two locks to the door in the dawn of morning, more to comfort himself than for any real reason. Then he spent the rest of the day thinking of ways to get rid of the A.I. 

Delete the folder and wipe the hardware clean? Even now, he couldn't bare to stomach that, for reasons he still refused to acknowledge. Get rid of the computer all together? Too risky - what if someone else found it? They'd be stuck with a stranger, and he couldn't bare that fate, for either parties sake. Destroy the computer completely? He felt sick at the mere thought of it, plus, the computer _had_ cost a pretty penny. Call a priest and have his computer blessed? They'd think he was a nutjob - he'd be all over the newspapers and everywhere in online articles, a laughing stock of an already pathetic man. Call the police? As if; they didn't help with jack shit, period. They'd probably lock him up in a poor excuse of an arrest rather than do anything significant with the computer. Call someone? Who did he have to call? His parents wouldn't help, and he wasn't exactly loaded with close-call friends.

... Welp. Looked like he was on his own with a demonic computer. _Splendid_.

For the next ten days, nothing had happened. He avoided the computer room like the plague. He went about with his days like everything was normal and peachy perfect and there wasn't a computer stuffed with self aware A.I locked within the same house as him.

Six months since he'd finished Half Life in VR and listened to Dr Coomer's final message. 

Then, at 2am on a Thursday, he shone his phone flashlight down the hallway of the computer room and came face to face with the exhausted model (yes, _model_ , not _person_ ) of the Half Life security guard standing in the pitch black. The model stared him head on, disproportionate shadows cast on his figure that made him appear ten times more terrifying than he had any right to be. The guard put a clear foot on him thanks to his steel-toed boots and helmet alone, and he was _inside his house **right in front of him**_. 

'... Oh, shit, hey. Whats up, bro.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, another quick thing - the player is not WayneRadioTV (wops I've had that spelt wrong this entire time), simply because I'm not comfortable with writing real people! He's just A guy Similar to Wayne, if that makes sense  
> I also realised way too late (like the 7th chapter dhgdfshdfs) that it would have been way easier to do this in the second person rather than the third. Wops!  
> God this is gonna be dumb as all fuck dg3gvhsdkjn3


	2. I got a little wiser, but I'm not everything I thought I'd be

**started: 5/6/2020**

* * *

He was going to throw up. Actually, for real, throw his guts up.

Polygons. Benrey was a cluster of polygons, formed into a vague shape of a man; all sharp edges and triangle limbs and odd juts in his clothes. He stood at a weird angle against the wall, no longer stuck to a straight, stiff posture. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was a horrid mix of human and a man-made creation, wavering on the edge of visually fake. Almost like he was an optical illusion.

His hands, for example, weren't glued to fisted balls of angerance, but he didn't exactly have _fingers_ , either. The "flesh" was still knitted together, looking more like crabby mitts than actual hands, and it was freaking him the fuck out. He could move his arms when he was stood in place, crossed over his chest rather than poles hung by his sides. His face held real, human emotion; sure, he still looked _dead_ , but now he looked the _human_ equivalent of dead. His brows were drawn low, eyes lidded in boredom, lips curled downwards. No longer was his expression a stapled on mask. Upon seeing him, Benrey's exhausted boredom shifted into a pleased curl, almost like he was _excited_ to see him.

It was very disconcerting.

'Huh. You look way different than you did before.' _His mouth worked properly_. It didn't flap open and closed like a nightmare, it actually _moved_ around the words he spoke. His teeth didn't curve upwards and around his unhinged jaw, but god _damn_ , were they _sharp_. _What the fuck, why are his teeth so fucking_ sharp? His voice sounded clearer, the static-y and muffled tint from the game giving way to a normal, dead-pan voice.

Was he dreaming? Was this a fucking nightmare? Was he stuck in a nightmare and he couldn't wake up? His head ran with question after question, a rapid current that left him with no working words in his too tight throat. He was left gaping his mouth open and closed like a fish at Benrey. It was so weird, to see his features change in real time; how his brows knotted together, how his tired, tired eyes creased into concern, of all the fucking emotions to bare.

'... Whoa bro, I uh- ... Look-' Benrey stepped forward, he stepped back. It was so fucking strange, hearing his security uniform creak with his movement. How he rose his flesh mitts up, open palmed in weak surrender, and oh God, they really _were_ mitts. They weren't hands, they were practically _gloves_. 'I uh, I know this is weird, y'know. To see someone like me here, but. Yeah.' Benrey shrugged, then shoved his crabby-mitt glove hands into the pockets of his trousers, in a very un-Benrey like fashion. How human. How real. How mind bending. What the **fuck**. 'It's not exactly easy for us either, bro.'

' ** _U_ _s_**?' His voice was more of a whimper than a question.

'Ooooh yeah, forgot, everyone else's behind this door. I was uh, gonna unlock it. Y'know. 'Cause it's locked. Which is pretty rude, honestly.' Benrey moved out of the way of the door, and indeed, when he shined his light beside Benrey, the two locks were still latched in place. How the **fuck** \- 'I don't uh, follow this worlds physics too great. Which is absolute poggers. For me.' Benrey said in explanation, lips curled up in a grin, his sharp, sharp, too sharp teeth exposed. Oh great. So a literal monster was in the real world, in his fucking house, right in front of him, and he _still_ possessed the same powers he had when he was in the video game. Cool. Wonderful. Absolute _poggers_.

'I'm dreaming. This-this is all just a fucked up dream, and you're not real.' He pointed at Benrey, taking another step back, on the verge of fight, flight, and a panic attack. His hands shook, threatening to drop his phone. His phantom pain was almost a scream of agony, alarm bells at full volume in his head. It was taking every ounce of self control he had to not point his right arm at the anomaly. 'You're not- you can't be real, you _can't_ be, you- you're not-you're-'

'Hey bro, don't look at me, I don't wanna be here either. I just sort of, woke up, in that shitty ass room. We all did. ... Anyway, this place is- it's pretty bad, bro. I haven't even seen a single play station here. So not poggers, I knew you weren't a cool guy like me.' Benrey leaned against the wall again, a hip cocked out, facial expression back to boredom. God this entire thing was hurting his head so so bad- 'I uh, I can touch you, if you want proof or something-'

'You ain't touching _shit_ -'

'Yeah? Well I'm gonna touch your wall bro.' To make his point, Benrey's crabby-mitt hand came out of his pocket, and he slapped it against the wall. It didn't glitch or phase through the plaster, instead making a faint _slap_ noise. A fleshy sound. Real sound. Real. 'I'm touching it, bro. I'm slappin' your dumb wall. What'er you gonna do 'bout it huh? Gonna cry about it? Huh? Cringe man?'

'Shut up- fucking- Shut the _fuck_ up before I come over there and punch your _God_ damn _lights_ out-'

'Now I'm gonna touch your lock bro-' 

'Wait-'

'Whoa, wuh. ... What the fuck, two locks?' Benrey sounded amused. It made his breath catch in his throat in a high pitched squeal.

'... _Yes_! I-I wanted to be extra careful!'

'Ain't no bein' careful 'round me brooooo.' Easy as pie, he unlocked the locks and swung the door open before he could call out a single protest. Benrey stepped to the side, and his light was allowed to shine into the dimly lit room.

His heart sunk like a stone at the scene set before him.

Oh, God, they really were all in there. Tommy, Dr Coomer, Bubby, Darnold, Forzen, Sunkist, the G-man, a HEV suit. ... Oh, **God**. 

Forzen was sitting in the chair, face glued to the computer screen, already settled on a Youtube video, and his shoulder width was the size of the fucking doorway alone. Dr Coomer was short and stocky, and just as shredded as Forzen. Tommy and Darnold dwarfed over almost everyone by a clear foot thanks to their slim frames. Bubby was a stick figure too, yet he was no where near as tall as Tommy or Darnold, his eyes still blanketed behind his grey glasses. The G-Man, a literal tree of a thing, stood in the shadows of the corner like a freak. Sunkist, who was probably six feet tall, was a literal j.peg even when in the real world - as flat as paper, she was. And a HEV suit loomed in the opposite corner of the room. Apart from Sunkist, they were possibly the widest and tallest thing of them all, the stylised armour causing light to reflect off in all angles, and geez, was that helmet fucking _imposing_.

They all looked as fucked up as Benrey, with their sharp and soft polygons and crabby-mitt hands and vaguely human and inhuman features. With just the computer screen and his phone light brightening up the room, the scene took an even more nightmarish turn. 

Actual video game character models. In his house. Alive and real. Video game real. **Video game real**. **_Video Game Real_**.

What the fuck horror movie was he stuck in?

Suddenly, all heads snapped to him, beams of smiles and bellows of greetings thrown at him in unison, and it was too much. He wasn't sure if he laughed, screamed, swore, or did all three at once, before he fell backwards like a log, unconscious within a moment. He and his phone clattered to the floor with an almighty, unhealthy _thump_. Quiet rung between the real A.I's as they stared down at him. Then, after a while, there was a loud, irritated sigh from Benrey that broke the stillness.

'Well, fuck.' Benrey said helpfully.


	3. Think you'd be better off in bed, reliving the past inside your head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAA THANK YOU FOR ALL THE COMMENTS SO FAR!!!! absolute POG  
> updates may be inconsistent because i am slow

**started: 6/6/2020**

* * *

He awoke to the sounds of screaming birds, beacons of sunlight streaming through his closed curtains and onto his bed sheet. The only things that ran through his mind was the thump of a headache and the numb kind of blankness you have when first waking up. For a while, he laid there, simply soaking in the pleasant warmth and bird songs and the scuffle of activity on the outside, as the world kept itself busy. He stretched, yawned, cracked his jaw, and hummed; he considered going back to sleep to catch another hour or two, because hey, why not-

And then, from out of nowhere, the memories of earlier hit him like a ton of bricks, the headache now in full flare. When his eyes snapped open with a cartoonish sound of shattering glass, he saw the figure of Benrey loom directly over him, in his stupid fucking security guard uniform, his shadow long, expression bored. But at the sight of his open eyes and lucid stare, a spark of joy lit up Benrey's face - he could almost call it _soft_ \- before it instantly reverted back to the default. He wanted to scream, call foul, attack Benrey like a feral subway rat-

'Yo bro, just uh. Wanted to make sure you weren't dead. Which, you ain't, so uh, I guess that's cool.' He said nothing back - could say nothing back, his throat constricted, air barley entering his system. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, mouth gaped open, his pulsing head overwrought with that same rapid current of questions and revelations and "Oh shit that _hadn't_ been a nightmare??? Now What????" that he'd had upon first encountering the security guard model.

'... Oh, shit, are you gonna faint again? 'Cause that was so unepic last time bro; Forzen had to carry your ass up here and Tommy wouldn't stop worrying 'bout ya all day.' Benrey shrugged, looking unbothered about that fact. ''Least you're in bed this time yeah? I suggested putting you outside in a trash can, but Tommy didn't like that idea-'

'What the fuck are you doing here.' He spat, more venomous than he'd intended, though the headache didn't really aid his mood. His heart beat a mile a minute, body on fire with a cold sweat, yet Benrey barely flinched at the tone, at the daggers aimed his way. The only subtle change was the raise of a brow, and wasn't that a fucking thing to witness.

'Uh, making sure you're not dead, like a good bud? Yeah you're welcome asshole.'

'No, what the fuck are you doing _here_.'

'.................................... Ooooooooooooh you mean like, the _real_ world. ...' He nonchalantly shrugged again, a pure air of calm as he roved his gaze around his bedroom, in the same manner a vulture surveyed the land for dead meat. 'Dunno. Hey your room looks like shit bro.' Benrey slanted off, hands stuffed in his pockets and his steps taken too wide. The shadows on his clothes and skin _almost_ looked natural, far more natural than they had in their first encounter, if it wasn't for the sharp, random juts in his clothes. In his _model_. 'Oh hey, about the real world, the uh. The sun is nice. Real warm n' ... shit. 'S nice.'

In an act of sudden adrenaline, he reached for his alarm clock, grabbed it in a white-knuckled grip, scrambled to a seating position, and then poised it at Benrey, his arm pulled all the way back, ready to lob it directly at his face within a moments notice. His headache was a steady, uncomfortable pound, right arm just as uncomfortable. Benrey turned at the noise to watch him, amusement twinkling in his eyes, sharp teeth bared in a wicked grin. With his gaze alone, Benrey dared him to throw it.

Not that he'd be able to even _do_ much against Benrey, alarm clock or no - Benrey was basically a God in any dimension he decided to exist in, _apparently_. What could a mere mortal like him do against a video game entity? Alarm clock vs Benrey, lets go.

'Are you going to kill me now?' He asked. He despised how much his voice quivered. How much his wrist bit with pain. How much his hand holding the make shift weapon shook.

'Wuh?' Sharp amusement changed into soft confusion. 'Why would I do that? That's boring sauce bro, like-like we're not even stuck to scripts anymore. We're like, free. I don't have any reason to uh, to do that anymore, none of us do. ... Y'know, unless you like, _want_ us to-'

'Then why the _fuck_ are you here if you're not gonna finish me off???'

'Told you before man, none of us know. We were just, chillin' in your shit ass cringe computer, and now we're chillin' in this shit ass cringe house. Your files sucked by the way - fuckin', cringe ass gamer-'

'Can you _please_ stop saying the word cringe? When did you start saying cringe-'

'Dunno, can you stop acting like it?' Again, he couldn't respond to that, too fixated on the way Benrey moved. He wasn't an NPC, and he wasn't human. He wasn't overly awkward in his steps, but he wasn't smooth with them, either, all janky and childish and borderline experimental. He looked natural and unnatural, in both appearance and motor skills. Like a six month old baby who had been walking for a maximum of three hours. Maybe Benrey _was_ just a baby in this world.

God, what the fuck kind of turn had his life took?

'Likin' the view?' He was very quick to bounce back despite the unspoken threat still hanging in the air. He scowled at Benrey's coo, and pulled his hand back a touch further in threat.

'No, it looks a bit shit actually. _You_ look a bit shit.'

'Maaaaaan that wasn't very nice. You-you hurt my feelings. And you used my own quote against me, so not cool man.'

'Oh shit, I wasn't aware you had feelings.'

'Yeah bro, I do, and you just hurt 'em.'

'I am so very, very sorry.' Benrey shot him another look, somewhere between happy and a shit-eating kind of smug, but he was far too tired with a far too big headache and a far too sudden spike of adrenaline to play spot the difference. Before he could put effort into analysing it, Benrey had turned back towards a bunch of his bootleg posters lining the wall. And that's when another memory hit him, which made the headache turn into a full on rave party.

Benrey wasn't the only model residing inside of his house.

'Listen man,' He started, the alarm clock placed down on the bed so he could rub his temples. Benrey cocked his head toward him with a gentle hum, but kept his focus on the Pokémon posters. 'Whats like, happening with the others. Like, what'er they doing? I'm like, surprised the house is still in one piece.'

'Downstairs doing shit.'

' _What_ shit.'

'How am _I_ supposed to know? I'm not their parent, geez man go check on them yourself if you give that much of a shit.' He sighed, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed that, if all of this wasn't a nightmare nor a hallucination, he might as well bite the numerous bullets head on. Just, deal with it, right? It wasn't like anything remotely interesting happened in his life, and even though he wasn't particularly keen on having a bunch of aware A.I _inside of his house_ , it was, at the very least, something different from the every day. Even if the headache disagreed with him.

_Fuck it man. Just_ fuck _it. This might as well happen. Who gives a shit anymore._

With that, he placed the ticking rock back on the bed-side table, threw his legs over the bed, and clambered to his feet, the headache still in full force. Benrey moved to stand next to him, and wow, he really was fucking _tall_. Maybe it was because of his modelled shoes and stupid helmet that helped him put on a clear foot. Being 5'4 sucked.

'C'mon bro, everyone's real worried about you 'n shit. Don't crash the party like you did last time.' He grumbled incomprehensibly back to Benrey that Benrey laughed at, much softer than the last time he'd heard him. It really had been a while since they'd seen each other, huh?

With that, the pair left the bedroom, Benrey leading the way, and the pair made their way down to the living room. The bold yellow letters of "Security" taunted him with every step.

They passed by the main computer room, the door still left a touch open and the locks left unlatched, without saying a single word about it.


	4. No I don't have a lot to leave, and I'm not good enough to

**started: 6/6/2020**

* * *

As soon as he reached the end of the hallway and heard the commotion from the living room, all of the confidence he'd built up instantly broke into a million little pieces. His slightly watered down headache spiked in intensity as the volume of his new roommates became too intense to handle. Timid, he tip toed his way to the edge of the doorway and peeked at the scene, making it equally obvious that he was ignoring whatever Benrey was doing at the same time.

Dr Coomer and Bubby were sat on the ratty couch, not criss cross apple sauce, but comfortably slouched over. They rotated their shoulders and showed off their (normal, he noted) teeth and facial twitches with excited, animated gestures. Dr Coomer said something he couldn't catch; he uncurled and flexed his weird mitt-crab hands, before taking Bubby's weird mitt-crab hands into his own. They did their best impression of entwining their fingers - but because they didn't _have_ fingers, it wasn't a very good impression - which elected Dr Coomer to do a delightful little wiggle. Bubby's face was as red as a tomato, his expression woozy and full of unabashed love, even if you couldn't see his eyes from behind the tint of his grey glasses. Their hair was still oddly shaped, their science uniforms both sharp and seeming far too flat for it to be coincidental. They spoke of tenderness.

Sat in front of the couch were Tommy and Darnold, an array of different branded sodas and Powerade's(tm) cluttered between them. Where they'd gotten the soda from when he hadn't had any in the house was beyond him ( _oh no, can they go_ outside???). They chattered in the same animated fashion as Dr Coomer and Bubby, their hands waving around and faces beaming with smiles and blushes. They were sharp and unnatural and flat all at once too - from their appearances down to their clothes. Sunkist towered over them in all her j.peg glory, though she cast no shadow. She hopped on the spot, a tinny 8-bit bark and streams of purple and yellow Black Mesa Sweet Voice(tm) emitting from her locked shut muzzle whenever Tommy squeaked with glee. They spoke of joy.

Behind the couch, hunched over his new main laptop that he had both somehow found and accessed the password to, was Forzen, his scrunched up lemon face flashing different colours with whatever video he was watching. Stood by his shoulder was the G-Man, hands clasped behind his back. He peered down at the tilted back screen, face inscrutable with whatever it was Forzen had on. They spoke to each other in low tones; Forzen making a comment about the video, the G-Man asking a question about it, Forzen responding back, so on and so forth. It was funny, in a way; Forzen had a coat-hanger for a chest, while the G-Man was a lanky pole in comparison. Again, the sharpness and unnaturalness and flatness spoke volumes, their polygons more on-show than the rest of the science team. They spoke of contentedness.

The HEV suit stood away from the crowd, secluded to their own little space beside the TV in the far corner, covered in shadows. The helmet was still on, their gloved crab hands wringing together in fits of nerves, shoulders hunched and knees bent. The helmet head flitted from one part of the room to the next, keeping track of everyone there. Like they were searching for something, expecting something; waiting for a catastrophe to happen. Out of all of them, the HEV suit model was the most smoothest, more concrete anomaly in the room. They were a decidedly more pleasant model to look at; finely detailed and painstakingly constructed, however haunting the suit was in design. They spoke of anxiety.

He continued to peek from behind the wall, not daring to take a single step inside, his gut in somersaults, head ringing with thumps. Benrey glared over his head, hands buried in his pockets - he noted that Benrey was very fond of the pockets. Benrey spoke of bored calm, while he spoke of anxiety number two.

'I- ... I don't want to go in there.'

'Pff. Pussy.'

'Fuck _off_ man, I - I'm not good with crowds, let alone fucking- Whatever the _fuck_ you guys are!'

'Wow, rude. Listen bro, if it makes you feel any better- ... If we'd wanted you dead, we would've got ya when you fainted. You ain't got nothin' ta worry about, man.' That. Did _not_ make him feel any better. 'We're not gonna bite your arm off. Calm down, bro.'

'Calm down?! Calm _DOWN_?! How the _FUCK_ can I calm down when _**YOU** _exist?!' He hissed, turning to look up at Benrey, who took a short step back. Benrey looked down at him, unfazed as usual. 'You're not supposed to _BE_ in the real world, and I don't got a fucking _CLUE_ how you were able to get out in the first place, and now I'm _STUCK_ with-' Blue balls shot towards his face, a low pitched "aaaa" from Benrey being his only fore-warning. He flinched, but didn't move, and in an instant, his nerves calmed from their hitch the moment the Black Mesa Sweet Voice(tm) made contact with his cheek. Somehow, his outburst hadn't attracted any of the groups attention to their presence. At least, he _thought_ it hadn't.

'Feel calmer now, bitch boy?' He gave Benrey a long suffering glare. Benrey glared right back with a sharp, shit-eating grin that was actually palpable in the real world, and he despised it with every fibre of his soul. A million worries flew through his head, the loudest being that, if the Black Mesa Sweet Voice(tm) affected him in real life, what the fuck else was gonna work??? No-clipping through buildings??? Power legs??? Another Benrey boss fight??? Passport powers??? The Forbidden Science??? 

'I swear to God, I'm gonna punch you right in your stupid fuckin' nose-'

A weight landed on his left shoulder. He felt the colour drain from his face, his blood run terrifyingly cold, his heart jump several beats forward. The world buzzed into quiet, sight tunnelled souly on Benrey's face. Slowly, so achingly slowly, he dragged his eyes away from Benrey to look at the cause of the weight, and saw a fuzzy blur of an orange and black mitted hand. He followed the mitt down an armour clad, orange and black arm, resting his sight on an armour clad, orange and black chest plate with a symbol in the centre. His eyes trailed up the tall chest plate to lock on to the black visor of the HEV suit's helmet. He saw no reflection in the visor, only eternal darkness. God _damn_ this thing was taller than fucking _Benrey_ -

Behind the blurry blockage of the HEV suit, he noticed the rest of the group snap their heads towards him, several pairs of eyes landing on him all at once. They clambered to their feet in cheers, intent on approaching, their voices a combined wave of noise. It was déjà vu all over again.

'Oh um, quick question.' Benrey mumbled behind him as the groups smiles grew into wide, warm grins. 'You're not gonna uh, faint again, right? 'Cause that would suuuck.' The HEV suit's helmet cocked to the side, almost as if the person inside was laughing. 

Fuck his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> purple to yellow means a good assortment of hellos


	5. Was it worth the time you spent? I don't think so

**started: 7/6/2020**

* * *

'Hello, Fakedon!'

'Hello, Mr Fakeman!'

'Whats up bitch!'

'Hello again, Dr Fakedon!'

'WOOF'

'Dr Fakeman.'

The herd closed in, bubbly with bright expressions and loud chatter, and the HEV suit let their hand fall back to their side. Out of panic, he backed himself up into the very real, very bulky chest of Benrey (he didn't feel Benrey breathing??), until he was boxed in by the team, his eyes almost popping free from his head, hands up in meek, shaky surrender. It took every single ounce of self control he had to not point his arm at them like an idiot.

From left to right stood Dr Coomer, Bubby, the HEV suit, Darnold, Tommy, Sunkist, and the G-Man. Forzen remained where he sat, only giving a slight grunt of acknowledgement, focus trained on the blinking monitor.

His head was a buzz of white noise, everyone talking over each other; to thank him, congratulate him, compliment him, insult him, question him. He caught none of their words, the edges of his vision slowly veining black, and his heart hammered a panicked tattoo against his rib-cage, a threat that if he didn't calm down soon, it would burst from his chest like a Xenomorph. Light and heavy headed, dizzy and alert, fight and run, scream and cry,

'Whoa friends, y'all might want to uh, back up a bit. Fake-y's gonna pass out again, which, like, ultra uncool.'

'Ooooh, we're-we're sorry, Mr Fakeman! We-we-we just wanted to, to say thank you for saving us!' Tommy's words were lost to him. The science team backed up three steps. The warmth never left their faces.

'Alright, bro.' Benrey's voice was soft in his ear, almost understanding in tone. 'Breathe.' At the crab-mitt placed on his shoulder, he nodded, and gulped in a big breath, held it, and then gushed it out. His body shook with violent trembles, little whimpers fluttering by his lips, hands dropped to ball into the fabric of Benrey's trousers - _actual_ fabric. His clothes felt more like actual, normal fabric than they'd looked. 

_Why the fuck isn't Benrey_ breathing _? Is he alive? Why is he not breathing? Oh my God, is he fucking_ dead _??? ... Why the Fuck isn't ANYONE ELSE_ FUCKING **BREATHING**

He made no effort to move from his perch, and Benrey didn't push him away. He was allowed to breathe, to recollect himself. He wasn't sure how much time flew by as he grounded himself little by little. It was only when he'd visibly deflated that the others began to talk, one by one this time, and _finally_ , he began to process the phrases being spoken to him.

'I say Mr Fakeman, this world is quite something else! You have functioning sunlight, actual beakers to store potions in, grass, trees - I'm quite enthralled!' Darnold chirped, lightly clapping his crab-mitt hands together. Since when did he have _beakers_ in the house? And was he going crazy, or did they all look less. Video game-y now? 

'It sure is! I knew the world beyond our realm was extraordinary, but I didn't realise how big a scale the transformation could be! For example: examine!' Dr Coomer reached for his ridiculous tie, and instead of it being super glued to the front of his shirt, was easily peeled off his front, where he waved it through the air. It was normal. To be expected. Yet to them, it was as if they'd found the one true answer to life. 'We are gaining realism with every second we stay here, Fakedon! Soon we will be real, fleshed out, functioning members of society!'

'It is quite the, predicament, Dr Fakeman.' The G-Man rasped, the tips of his stitched crab-mitts touching. It would have been a funny sight, if he were a person. 'Quite the leap, from lines of code to things more, solid, hmm?'

'This beats the fuck out of Black Mesa's shitty world! I can actually pick stuff up with my hands and not have it hover right in front of my face now! I am going to cause _so_ many problems on purpose!' Bubby had determination scribbled across his face, hands balled to fists. 'And no! More! Prototypes! No more forcing me to remember my initial creation!'

'And no more clones!'

'No more aliens, Mr Fakeman!'

'No more fucking _tubes_!!! ........... Hmm, I will miss the senseless violence, though.' Bubby added as an after thought, stroking his chin with his stitched together fingers. 'And. Ah. No more God Mode either, I suppose. ... Huh. Never mind! This world sucks! I want to go back!'

'Now dear Bubby, I'm sure the scenery's and experiences in this world will more than make up for the lack of chaos Black Mesa dished out! I, for one, am rather looking forward to exploring the contents of this new life!' At that, Bubby's disappointment grew into softness at the drop of a hat. 'And I'm sure destruction can be created through other means, such as pranks, and spray paint, and silly string, and glitter!'

'... Oh alright, I suppose this world doesn't suck _that_ bad.' 

'Oh thank you, Mr Fakeman! Now I can show everyone what the perfect dog looks like!' Tommy turned to Sunkist, who's bark was acidic in sound. 'Aren't we, Sunkist? We're-we're gonna show everyone who the perfect, most bestest dog in the whole wide world is, and that's you!' He stroked the neck of the j.peg, and Sunkist released a stream of pink to blue, the balls floating in the air before disappearing from view. 

'Yeah, I guess this world's not all sucks.' Forzen spoke from his seat, attention still focused on the screen. 'It's no Yownloader, but it'll do.'

'Yeah, man. Now we can like, actually do stuff when we want to n' shit.' Benrey added to the pile, lightly patting his shoulder. _Has his hand been there this entire time_? 'So uh, thanks for not being shit and getting us outta the. The junk pile.'

'Yes! Thank you, Fakedon!'

'You're not such a big bitch after all!'

'What a wonderful feeling to experience a new world!'

'Thank you, Mr Fakemon!'

The HEV suit, through all of their praise, had remained still and silent. They didn't so much as twitch, their visor staying locked on his person throughout their speeches. The G-Man didn't add anything else to the conversation either, and Forzen remained quiet. Once silence reigned on them, he took another deep breath, held it, and then gushed it out. The grip on Benrey's trousers loosened to a slack hold, his legs no longer feeling like they'd crumple. He licked his lips and stood a bit straighter, addressing them all head on in a new found confidence. Benrey's hand remained on his shoulder.

'...... So, uh.' He was surprised he still had his voice, even if it did shiver with emotions. 'Are. Are you guys gonna. ... Are you going to kill me?'

'What? _Kill_ you? Whatever would we do that for?' 

'Oh good heavens, no! I would just like to create potions and examine the Powerade(tm) here!'

'There's no reason to kill you, Fakedon! Just don't give us one and we'll be fine!'

'Told you we're not on scripts, bro. No one is anymore.' He nodded. Somehow, he believed them. He slumped over and rubbed at his temples, the other hand remaining at Benrey's thigh.

'Okay. ... Alright. ... Cool, uh, what. ... So what'er you guys gonna do now?'

'Fuck shit up!' Those words alone from an enthusiastic Bubby was almost enough to make him keel over and faint for a second time.


	6. Was it worth the time that went? I told you so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres a personal favourite  
> wow wops did i say slow updates? lets fucking goooo

**started: 7/6/2020**

* * *

After collecting everyone to lay down a bunch of house _and_ world rules (of course he wasn't gonna kick them out, he wasn't heartless, but _man_ did they need rules), the house soon became lively with activity.

Tommy, Darnold, and Sunkist played together in the tiny backyard, their heaps of laughter and barks sending mini earthquakes across the world (because Sunkist could just _do_ that now, apparently). Not even the heat got them down as they chased each other, and they wooped and howled their joy toward the cloudless blue sky. When the heat did get too much, they'd lay in the shade and watch butterfly's flutter by and bees buzz pass them with fascination in their eyes, ooing and awwing at the little wonders they hadn't been able to experience within the virtual realm.

Dr Coomer and Bubby had detained the kitchen for themselves, a bustle of movement and chuckles and weak insults lobbed at each other, the radio filling in as their ambience. They pulled this and that from cupboards, this and that from the fridge, this and that from drawers. The mechanics of a stove and blender were second nature to them, experience in their coding, and even if they hadn't put it into real practice before, they supposed they could properly figure it out now. They added this and that to the bowl, mixed this and that in the blender. They created oddities out of food that only extremists would dare to try, simply because they could. Sometimes a song on the radio would further soften the atmosphere, and the pair would stop their controlled, chaotic "baking" to hold each other and do a lazy waltz around the cramped space. It wasn't easy because of their underdeveloped hands, but they still had a good time regardless.

Forzen and the G-Man were upstairs, glaring out the window at the outside world, taking in the sights of real trees and real signs and real roads and real picket fences and wooden gates. They spoke no words to each other, though the silence they shared was enough to portray their happiness.

Benrey, the HEV suit, and himself were sat in the living room. 

'So uh.' He began, trying to break the thick, heavy tenseness that had settled on their shoulders. He turned to the suit, though he didn't look directly into their visor. 'Aren't you uh. Hot? In that suit? ... Like, y'know, sweaty?'

'Ooooh bro, we never introduced you two did we?' Benrey draped his arm around the suits shoulders, his other hand patting at their arm, a shine of pride in his eyes. 'This here's Gordon Freeman. The _real_ Gordon Freeman.' The real Gordon Freeman did a little wave to him. His mind whirred.

'... What, the guy I played as?'

'Yeppers. Ooooh yo, that's like, identify theft, haha.' 

'... Oh. ... Uh, yeah, that's. That's kinda weird. ... Not-not you! Not you, just. Yeah. It's weird.' He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and decided not to add anything else to that and _not_ put any more thought into it. '... Hey, sorry you were ah, controlled by an absolute fucking moron, man.' Gordon's shoulders softly shook with silent giggles that made Benrey jiggle along with him, and he waved a mitt-hand at him.

'He says it's cool.' Benrey translated, leaning heavily into Gordon's side. 'He thought your performance was epic. He actually talks in sign, but uh, his hands ain't really fit for that yet, y'know.' Gordon nodded, then did a little shrug. 'He says it's annoying. Don't worry bro,' He pats Gordon's arm again, all empathetic and soft. 'You'll have real hands real soon.'

'How do you know what he's saying then? Are you like, mute?'

'What the fuuuck bro, you just don't ask someone thaaaaat.' He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and Gordon laughed in an exaggerated fashion. 'Anyway, I'm not human, remember?' Gordon did another nod, before tapping the symbol on his chest plate twice, the contact making a dull _tink tink_. 'Yeah. None of us are human, bro. We're like- we don't sucks enough to be human.' 

'Weird! Have I ever mentioned how fucking weird this is!' Benrey released a stream of green to pink Sweet Voice(tm) that made Gordon nod furiously. He didn't even want to know what _that_ meant. 'So anyway! Your suit! Aren't you hot in it?' Gordon waved his arms around, head tilting this way and that, the suit clinking along with each wave, and all the time, Benrey watched with an unnerving amount of concentration.

'Oh, we're like, still adapting 'n shit. So we um, we can't take our like, clothes off yet until waaaaay later.' Gordon nodded once, pointing under Benrey's chin. 'He also says that yeah, it's pretty fuckin' hot in there. Haha, sweaty Gordos.' Benrey poked the side of Gordon's helmet with his fucked up crab hand, then Gordon batted Benrey's crab hand away with _his_ fucked up crab hand. He couldn't wipe the dopey smile off his face even with the topic of discussion. 

So they talked, and kept talking. About this, about that, about the suit, about their experiences, _not_ about the arm, _not_ about how he had taken control of Gordon within the game and how Gordon had _known_ about it. He learned about their short virtual life, they learned about his long real life. Questions and answers were bounced back and forth, continuous and easily. The tension melted away.

When the sun began to set over the horizon, the group gathered in the living room, where they somehow squeezed together in front of the window to watch the sky change colours. All of them - even the impassive Forzen and the stone faced G-Man - were fascinated by the scenery. Blue, yellow, orange, red, purple, pink; stars already a gentle litter across the darkening sky. They stayed at the window even as the inky darkness drained the colours away, now newly fascinated with the full explosion of stars that expanded across the universe. 

It was endearing, to watch them stare. It reminded him of when he was a child and everything was still new to him. ... Well, these things weren't really _new_ to them, were they? They were just re-experiencing things in a new light. Old tech, new hardware.

'I'm tired.' Tommy groaned, breaking everyone from their star gazing. 

'I quite agree!' Dr Coomer added. Everyone but Benrey grunted in unison. Sunkist rumbled, which caused knick-knacks on shelves to rumble and linger dangerously close to the edge. 'We do hate to intrude, Fakedon,' He knew Dr Coomer was lying, 'but where would you propose we sleep? We would feel terrible for stealing your bed!' Again, lying.

'Bed.' Tommy mimicked, eyes closed, now fully leaned against the wall. That was. Actually a very good question. Where the fuck _was_ everyone going to sleep? He only had the one bed, and it wasn't that big. He lived alone and worked a meagre job as a cashier, one that didn't even call him in to work half the time. How he still had a house and running water was beyond him.

He didn't really get a chance to respond to Dr Coomer before Bubby muttered something. He took hold of Dr Coomer's hand, and then the pair barged passed him, making a bee-line to his bedroom. Soon, Tommy followed them in mindless steps, and then an exhausted Darnold trudged after Tommy. Before he knew it, everyone had gone by him, on their way to his bedroom. The only one left behind was Benrey, who was more than content to remain star gazing.

When his brain finally caught up, he followed after the group. He was greeted to the sight of half the science team (minus the G-Man, who was no where in sight) crammed into his bed.

Tommy had one side, Darnold hogged the other, half hidden under the cover. Dr Coomer and Bubby had somehow lodged themselves between the two on top of the sheet, their bodies locked together in an embrace. Draped across everyone's legs and taking up the rest of the space (because of his wide as fuck shoulders alone) was Forzen, limbs hanging over the edges, already snoring up a storm. Sunkist stood on the end of the bed, because she couldn't lay down. She was a statue of pride. He honestly couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep, because she was a j.peg. How anyone could sleep while still in their uniforms - Forzen especially - just astounded him.

Gordon, meanwhile, had been too slow to claim a spot. He probably wouldn't have fit with the HEV suit anyway, and if he'd been the first to steal a spot, he would have taken up the entire bed. He looked about ready to flop to the floor and pass out, his body slouched forward way too much to be healthy.

'Couch.' He said to him, suddenly feeling as dead as Gordon. Gordon turned to him; he seemed to stare through him, though the visor made it hard to tell where the hell his eyes were. With much effort, Gordon took on a zombie shuffle, and he lead the way back down to the living room. The two of them collapsed onto the couch, Gordon's helmet head instantly finding a home in the crook of his neck. He was very much real, and solid, and the helmet dug in to his skin in a painful reminder of those facts.

'Aww, lil babies goin' beddy byes? Y'all taking a lil nap-nap?'

'Fuck off to sleep.' Gordon flipped Benrey off (though it wasn't much of a flip off, more of a vague hand wave) that made Benrey bark with laughter.

'Fuck no man, I don't need sleep. Gamers never sleep. Gamers aren't weak like you buncha' babies.' Whatever else Benrey said was lost as he somehow slipped into a peaceful darkness.

When he awoke in the late hours of morning, he was laid down on the couch, a blanket pulled over him and an uncracked energy drink waiting for him on the coffee table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blue to pink means hey bro we're all linked


	7. Could've been worse is what you said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thank you so much for all the comments and support. they really really do mean a lot! i read all of them and go =O!!! wowza!!! thank you!!! im really glad yall are enjoying this, this was really fun to do!!!

**started: 21/6/2020**

* * *

The science team had been living with him for three weeks, and honestly, it had been nice. It was just the little things that got to him the most.

The fact that no one ever really blinked. How no one seemed to breathe. How they didn't really need to eat or drink, only doing so out of a sense of normalcy rather than for any benefit. Even the act of sleeping was a fair toss up; sometimes they'd sleep for three hours a day and then stay awake for the next week, other times they'd conk out for five days straight. It would worry him, because every time, he'd think that they had died, made worse by the fact that they _didn't fucking breathe_. In some cases, like Benrey and the G-Man, they didn't even fake sleep at all. Or at least, he didn't _see_ them sleep. Maybe they went somewhere else to nap. He wasn't entirely sure.

From the eye alone, they appeared human, acted human, but he knew their secret. He knew that Bubby had a vendetta against every machine in the house, something being set on fire at least once a week, not by his hands, but by his mind, and _that_ had made him yell for an hour straight. 'Of course I can do that! I've always been able to do that! Stop being such a baby, Fakedon!' He knew that Dr Coomer would almost go Full Forbidden Science Mode when washing the dishes, or when watching a show he was real invested in. Knew that Forzen would always catch a shoulder in doorways because of his unnatural shoulder width; how the G-Man would disappear from the house completely if he looked away for a split second; that Tommy's eyes could glow yellow in the dark, in contrast to the G-Man's blue.

The entire entity that was Benrey.

Sunkist being a living, metaphorically breathing j.peg never failed to give him a mini existential crisis. 

And even though Darnold and Gordon were probably the most "normal" of the group, they were not spared from their oddities either, considering the fact that they'd been birthed from a video game. They didn't have physic defying qualities, nor could they change their appearances or manipulate their surroundings with their brain, but the point still stood that they were not exempt from the weirdness.

Plus, literally every single person was taller than him. _Everyone_. Even the _dog_ was taller than him by a good few inches. In time, he'd gotten used to it, but damn, did he _despise_ it.

They weren't human. He wasn't sure if they could ever really _be_ completely human. But he'd come to learn that their hearts, however artificial, were all in the right place.

Tommy tried to catch the pigeons that landed on their fence with his bare hands rather than with a gun. Bubby was less spiteful with his words and more thoughtful with his jabs. Dr Coomer gave everyone bone crushing hugs simply because he could. Benrey was, somehow, far more tolerable. Sunkist would make a motion like she was licking their faces. Forzen would gift him soda's, even though he hadn't left the house at all, and every so often, the G-Man would grate out his appreciations to him at two in the morning.

No, they weren't human. Yes, most, if not all of their attributes, sometimes freaked him the fuck out. But that was okay.

He'd come to love them and their uniqueness's. 


	8. So I got another concept; I think it's my best idea in years

**started: 8/6/2020**

* * *

A few weeks pass by. He'd never noticed how big and lonely the house had been before, the fact much more noticeable now that it had other residents living in it. And it's. Nice, to have a house full of people. Even when they left a mess in the kitchen and left it to him to clean up. Even when things got displaced and it took an hour to find stuff because it'd gotten dropped down the back of the couch, or left _behind_ the fridge (for some ungodly known reason). Even when they fought for half an hour over what to watch on TV, and Dr Coomer _always_ won, but that was okay, 'cause he always put on the best shit he'd ever seen in his life. How the fuck did he know about half of these shows? 

Even when the G-Man dips from radar for a full day, or Sunkist barks so loud she causes a low scale earthquake, or Benrey "accidentally" smashes one of his mugs for the third time in a week ('Why do you care bro? All you use 'em for is like, for your energy drinks.'), or when Forzen gets into a half hour rant about Irate Gamer or whoever that other guy even is.

It's nice.

He leaves the house to go to his job, or preform errands and grocery runs, and he, begrudgingly, trusts the science team to behave. (They couldn't leave the house yet - he forbid them to, considering they still looked like eldritch horrors, and he sure as fuck didn't want the FBI at his doorstep asking him what his deal is. He was more surprised they actually _listened_ to him.) Then he comes back, and is always pleasantly surprised to find that the house isn't on fire or crumbling at the seams, no one's been killed, nothing had exploded. They greet him, ask him about his day, actually listen to what he has to say, and he returns the gesture back. It was nice.

He'd never known what "home" had truly felt like, not even before the science team had entered his life, but if he were to take a guess, then this was it. He felt warmth in his heart, butterflies in his stomach, a simple happiness in his chest, knowing that he wasn't alone anymore; all emotions he had never felt before. To remember he had people waiting for him back at the house was a comfort. It was a sappy as fuck thing to feel, to think, but the emotions came all the same.

The science team had fleshed out far more since their arrival, no longer looking like complete SCP's. Their clothes rumpled, wrinkles in the bends of their coats and uniforms. Benrey's helmet slouched on his head, showing peeks of black hair, when weeks ago, it didn't so much as budge. They could unloop their ridiculous ties and take off their ill-fitted shoes, when before, the garments had been stitched to their bodies, as if the cloth had been their second skin. Their crab-mitts were slowly moulding into actual hands, with individual fingers that they could wriggle and flex and curl. Their polygons smoothed into natural bumps and curves and edges. Of course, they kept their oddities, but the fact remained that they were slowly becoming human.

Sunkist was no longer a j.peg; she had become less flat, more wide, more furry, though she still retained her tallness, which had bit at his pride just a tad. Bubby could take his glasses off, where frowning grey eyes sat underneath. Forzen looked less like a clothe-hanger and more like a body builder. Dr Coomer's hair looked like normal hair. Tommy's and the G-Man's wrinkles had evened out. The coded grey in Darnold's hair became a natural grey. 

Even though Gordon couldn't take the HEV suit off completely, he _could_ take the helmet on and off. He'd tried not to stare at him the first time he'd seen Gordon's face, but it was hard not to; he wore thick brimmed glasses (a trait he also shared if he didn't feel like wearing his contacts), looked absolutely exhausted, and had, of all things, a fucking shitty rat tail of hair. 'It _was_ the late 90's, bro. Game devs were just like that.' Benrey had translated from Gordon's disgruntled arm waves and deep set scowl. He still couldn't sign right yet, hands not fully formed, but he was slowly getting there.

'You want me to cut that off for you, man?' He'd offered. Gordon, almost looking insulted at the mere suggestion, furiously shook his head, crab hands held up in defence that had the entire group howling. Benrey sang a stream of white to blue, the balls hanging in the hair.

'With every minute we exist in this world, we become more constructed!' Dr Coomer had explained one day, a quote he had already heard. His lab coat had been shrugged off entirely, the garment thrown over the back of the couch, exposing his Black Mesa issued polo shirt. He seemed delighted to finally have the wretched thing off his body after so long. 'Soon, we will be able to change our clothes all together! Isn't that exciting?!'

Yeah, he'd agreed, face ablaze with joy. Yeah, that was exciting.

It was another full week later when Dr Coomer approached him, his eyes a glint of happiness, smile warm. His smiles were always warm, nowadays.

'Ah, Fakedon!' They still didn't call him by his real name. He found that he didn't mind at all. 'We have all come to a proposition; that we need a newer, bigger bed!' It was a sudden prompt, but he was quick to jump into the conversation, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

'Yeah, I know, but I'm not exactly made of money.' Even though the house was bigger than he'd first thought, it still became cramped. The bedroom was the biggest factor in that, even if it was the biggest room in the house. 'I mean, those things cost like, 500 bucks, and I barely have enough left over from rent, y'know?' 

'Perhaps _you_ are not made of money, but _I_ am!' _What_ , he'd wanted to say, before Dr Coomer reaches into his back pocket and produces a pile of dollar bills. A _large_ pile of dollar bills. The scene was straight out of a cartoon skit. Dr Coomer thrust the green mountain towards him, his smile growing forever bigger. That. That _had_ to be 1,000 bucks at _least_. What the _fuck_. 'Here is 1,500 dollars for the bigger bed we request!' Dr Coomer might as well have punched him square in the jaw.

'What-what the fuck?' 

'We are not of this world, Fakedon, please do remember that.'

'Yes!' Bubby chimed from his spot on the floor, fiddling with a dismantled Nokia he'd found. 'It'd be boring as fuck if we were completely normal.' 

'And I can still go all big, when eeeeeeever I want.' Benrey adds with a devious, sharp toothed grin. None of that knowledge brought him any comfort what so-ever.

'But-but you guys don't even _sleep_ properly!!! The fuck do you want a bigger bed for?'

'Of course we sleep, Fakedon! Don't be so fucking rude-'

'Well we do feel rather awful for acquiring your bed on such short notice, plus we all sleep at the same time! It's by design, you see.' He gave Dr Coomer a sceptical look, one that Coomer just continues to smile at. 'Please, do call if this isn't enough! I always have more money to spare! It is very easy to produce!'

So, he gathers the green from Dr Coomer's hands, stares at it for twenty seconds, and then stammers his thanks from behind a sudden wall of tears and snot. He has no idea why he'd burst into tears, but thankfully, no one called him out for it. He bounces on the heels of his feet before immediately dashing from the house, the money hastily stuffed into a bag. He bicycles his way to the nearest bed shop like a mad man on the run, where he, after a few good hours of scouring, orders two of the biggest beds they have for preciously $1,499. And when he got back, he crushed Dr Coomer into a hug, his tears flowing freely all over again. Dr Coomer had been solid against him, and had returned the embrace with just as much vigour. Both of them were left breathless (Dr Coomer quite literally, because he _still_ isn't breathing!).

Six weeks later, the beds were delivered, and, after many hours of arguing between Bubby, himself, and Gordon (translated by a laughing Benrey), the beds were constructed. His bedroom _still_ had space left over, even with three beds and a dresser (his room had always been meagre in furniture). Tommy and Darnold picked the right side, Dr Coomer and Bubby chose the left, and he, Benrey, and Gordon picked the one in the middle (although why Benrey even wanted a bed when he didn't even fake sleep was a mystery). Forzen said he didn't need sleep (for some reason he slept on the couch??), and the G-Man promised that he was never home at night (which was very worrying!).

And it was all really nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huurAACK *TICT* nice.  
> white to blue means kindly fuck you


	9. Gonna work a little harder, gonna give it the very best of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck this chapter i fucking hate this chapter  
> i tried to describe american sign language, so im sorry if it comes off as wrong. i tried to keep it as accurate to the pictures as possible. i hope the descriptions okay, but please let me know if somethings wrong!  
> AND AGAIN, THANK YOU FOR ALL THE KUDOS' AND COMMENTS!!! it really does mean a lot!!  
> things to mention: this chapter has very minor mentions of nudity, drinking, and nsfw text. it's all very barebones, but i figured id mention it to be on the safe side! it will be tagged as such in the tags

**started: 8/6/2020 - rewrite: 1/7/2020**

* * *

'Yo Fakedon, check this shit out.' It was another three months later when Benrey and Gordon approached him. Benrey wore a sharp toothed grin, Gordon hopping up and down beside him, his arms flapping by his sides that made the armour go _tink tink tink_ with every bounce. At 2am with a job to go to in five hours, he was a bone deep kind of exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to slump into bed and pass out for six solid weeks. But, despite his tiredness, he gave them an unenthusiastic nod and a weak wave of the hand for them to continue anyway. 

'Yeah sure whats it at wuh.' Not to waste another second, Gordon smacked the Lambda symbol of the suit with an open palmed (dare he say "fully modelled"?) hand. The chest plate made a loud _ding_ before it slumped to the floor with a massive _clatter_ , leaving the stomach and arm plates behind and revealing Gordon's bare torso. Muscle, flab, a healthy, thick dusting of dark chest hair, moles, top scars, ribs. An actual body that lay underneath the HEV suit.

Gordon was real enough to take his armour off. 

Gordon's grin was open mouthed and ecstatic, arms resuming their flaps as he took in the view of his torso. The HEV suit looked extremely weird with just the chest plate off, but he couldn't care - not when Gordon looked so happy and Benrey was beaming with pride, both radiating pure joy at the situation. The sight was enough to stab a spike of wakefulness in him.

'You. You can take it off now?'

'Fuck yeah he can bro, he can take it _all_ off.' Gordon nodded so fast he almost snapped his neck clean off.

'That's-' He couldn't help but grin, exhaustion giving way to happiness. 'That's _great_ , man! That's- Wow, I'm so glad!' Gordon did another too fast nod, his glasses askew, before bending down, about to smack at his leg plates- 'WAIT WAIT WAITWAIT _WAIT_ NO _GOD_ WAIT NOT HERE DON'T TAKE IT OFF _HERE_ -' Benrey sang a high pitched stream of turquoise to honey that lit up the room as he quickly ushered Gordon towards the bathroom, promising to bring him a fresh change of clothes. The HEV suit seemed noisier than before as Gordon allowed himself to be steered along.

'Hey Benrey, can you take your stuff off too?' He asked Benrey once Gordon was safely secured behind the bathroom door, where various _smacks_ , _clinks_ and _clangs_ could be heard from the other side. Benrey gave him an eagle eyed glance, before taking hold of his bullet proof vest, and yanking it clear over his head. It came off like a normal piece of clothing, when weeks ago, it had been stitched to his person like a second skin. He held it over his head with a toothy grin that reached his ears - inhuman and creepy, but happy all the same.

He couldn't be more proud of them.

The HEV suit pieces (which there were a lot of) were stuffed inside a plastic bag and discarded in the waste bin (because yes, the metal was real, and yes, it was fucking heavy; how Gordon had worn the suit for as long as he did without complaint was a mystery). Once Gordon showed everyone that he was out of the suit and in some of his old pj's, hugs and cheers were shared around the group, and a celebration was thrown the moment he returned from work that lasted well into the night.

It turned out that they could drink and get tipsy, and it sure was a thing to see the science team drunk. Forzen sang way too loudly and was bad at it, Dr Coomer kept getting into almost-fights with a lampshade because he thought it was talking shit about Bubby, Tommy almost threw the cooker through the door, and the G-Man, as it turned out, was a _very_ cuddly drunk. Sunkist howled every time Forzen hit a high note that made streets rumble in earthquakes and beer bottles be rocked off tables. Darnold passed out on his second cider, Bubby set fire to the TV and was very close to causing a Major Problem, and all Benrey did was sing with his sweet voice for the entire night.

It was a fun, messy party. He was so very glad to learn that they didn't suffer from hang overs, the lucky sons of bitches. He had to nurse his headache and sickness for the next day while they were unscathed.

Now that Gordon's HEV suit was completely off, everyone else had decided to swap out their outfits as well. Not one person was in uniform anymore.

After borrowing his old pj's for a few days, Gordon resorted to wearing a pink sweater and purple sweatpants, with yellow woolly socks. Dr Coomer wore a white shirt and red vest, with black baggy pants and mismatched socks. Bubby had his old, hole poked System Of A Down shirt ('Why that one?' 'Because it looks like pure shit and I live to torment you.'), with old man shorts and sandals. Tommy wore soda branded clothes, with a Sunkist(tm) t-shirt, Pepsi(tm) shorts, and. Powerade(tm) shoes. And he finally had his propeller hat back, something he hadn't even noticed had been missing from Tommy's person to begin with. 

Benrey, still wearing the Black Mesa security helmet, was plastered in game symbols from head to toe - an "of course I cum fast, I got games to play!" shirt that he absolutely _despised_ , pog-champ emblazoned pj's, and Pikachu socks with bright green crocs. Darnold wore a grey flannel and flower shorts, while Forzen was decked out in full blown, bright Hawaiian prints, a black pair of sunglasses, and a cowboy hat, all while in doors. And Sunkist had a Sunkist (tm) themed bandanna around her neck that the G-Man had lovingly tied, complete with the logo, some oranges, and a bright yellow colour.

The scary part was that, apart from the SOAD shirt, he didn't know _where_ their clothes had come from. He did not own a single piece of clothing they wore. But, they looked nice. And they were gleeful about the fact they weren't stuck to their old clothes anymore. So he figured, ah, what the hell, it's _probably_ fine.

On top of that, their hands were no longer crab mitts, now complete with individual fingers and thumbs and finger nails and hair and scars. All of their hair had grown out, wrinkles peppering their skin, with laugh lines and crows feet and deep dark bags under their eyes. Sunkist was leaving dog hair everywhere; against the couch, inside the bathroom, on their clothes. _Everywhere_.

It was amazing, how quickly they had adapted and changed to fit the world around them. Kind of weird to watch the process happen in real time, honestly. Although it _still_ should be stressed that they _still_ were not breathing, nor did they really need to eat or sleep, _still_ , which, yeah - now that they were actual, real, human men plus one dog? _Still_ freaked him the fuck out.

But, aside from their creepy lack of human needs; since their looks wouldn't land him a call with any kind of special opts in the near future (he _hoped_ ), he decided to ask them,

'Hey, do you guys wanna come grocery shopping with me?' 

'Oooooh, I do Mr Fakeman!'

'That sounds delightful, Fakedon!'

'Oh _finally_ , I've been dying to stretch my legs outside the house.'

'Fuck yeah bro.'

'Oh, we're allowed to leave the house now?' He nodded at Darnold's question, and a smile graced his features. 'Wonderful! Would it be okay if I explored this area? I would love to see more of the sights here!'

'Oh, oh, Mr Fakeman, can I take Sunkist for a walk instead?'

'Yeah, bud! She don't look like she crawled outta Area 51 now, go ahead.' Both Tommy and Sunkist cheered, and as had become the norm, the walls rumbled with Sunkist's howl. 'Just- just make sure she doesn't howl like that in public, okay? And like, just some more rules; please be careful, and please God, all of you, for the love of fuck - no murdering, no stealing, no war crimes, no-'

'Ugh, _laaaaame_.'

'Literally can't have shit in the real world.'

'Why would any of those be FUN.'

'Why would they NOT be?'

The first to leave the house were Tommy, Sunkist, Darnold, and the G-Man, who had been absent from the living room the entire time. It amused him to see the G-Man out of his suit, instead in a breezy t-shirt that simply had "what" written on the front, and shorts with an ugly, eye searing pattern, his socks and flip-flop combo smacking against the floor. The next to leave the house were himself, Dr Coomer, Bubby, Benrey, and Gordon. Forzen had waved off their offer to come with, staying slumped over the laptop. Something about more important business to attend to.

'Ugh, we have to _walk_ there?' Bubby complained the second they stepped outside.

'Yeah, I can't drive, so-' A shiny white Cadillac popped onto the street from literally nowhere. Brand new, tank full of gas, keys already in the dashboard. Benrey screamed 'ROAD TRIP' at the top of his lungs that made a flock of crows fly away. 'I thought you wanted to stretch your legs, man?'

'All the way there? As if.'

Even though no one could drive nor had a driving licence, they piled in anyway, and it was actually Dr Coomer that drove them to the store. It was hectic, nerve wracking, Dr Coomer slip sliding all over the place with an all knowing smile while directions were screamed at him; it was in the top ten worst moments of his life, but they eventually made it in one piece. The only attention they pulled were from irritated, honking stragglers caught in Dr Coomer's road-rage.

They "parked" the car and entered the store, and were greeted with many stares from passer-by's that went largely ignored. Stares were especially directed at Benrey, who had not changed out of his gaming attire. The group walked around and snuck items into the cart that were either just as sneakily put back onto a shelf, or debated with. Benrey and Dr Coomer then decided to break off from the group with their own shopping carts, Gordon and Bubby soon following their lead, both pairs heading in different directions, which left him to his own. He worried, but did not peruse them. He foolishly put his trust and faith in them to not be problems to society.

After a while of scanning the dairy isle, Bubby discretely set fire to a piece of cheese, because he detested the brand. The blaze was beaten out by a frantic Gordon.

'No.' Gordon left no room for argument, his movements sharp, expression stern.

'Dick! None of you are any fun!' Bubby complained.

'That is how you start a mass fire.' Gordon sighed with an exasperated grin.

'That was the point!' Bubby argued back. 

'Then set fire to the bank instead, asshole.'

'Before or after robbing it?'

'After, obviously.'

'When are we _gonna_ rob a bank? I'm getting _bored_.' Gordon stroked his goatee in thought, before a delightfully devilish grin spread across his face. He scrunched his arms into his chest, palms up. He fisted his hands, though left his thumb and pinky out on both hands. Then he sharply dropped them a short distance down his chest.

'Now?'

Bubby's grin was just as sharp in return.

Half an hour later, he paid for his stuff. Then Benrey paid for his stuff, which was all soda. And then Dr Coomer paid for _his_ stuff, which was _also_ all soda. They thanked the cashier and left to pack their things into the Caddy, taking their designated seats. Dr Coomer let the engine purr to life before taking note of their lack of passengers.

'I say, has anyone seen Gord and Bubs?' 

'There.' Benrey waved to the pair rushing at them, panic across their faces and a single brown, heavy looking bag clasped in their hands. They slammed into the car, practicality draping themselves across Benrey's lap. 'Hey bros-'

'Fucking _drive_.' Bubby spat.

' _F U C K._ ' Gordon finger spelled.

'My goodness, Fakedon! I do believe that they have just robbed the local bank!'

'Awwwww bros whaaaaat, you robbed a bank without us? So not fuckin' cool man.'

'They did **WHAT**.' 

Before he knew it, the car roared off, screams and laughter piercing the air. The drive home was a blur of colours and tire squeals and alarms and police sirens. Miraculously, they didn't crash into anything, and all of their groceries were still in tact, and once they reached the house, Dr Coomer did a perfect 180 skid of a park that left tire tracks on the sun baked roads and him almost in tears. In a hysteric panic, the science team flew out of the car, grabbed every grocery bag, and rushed into the house, where the smoking Caddy was then despawned from existence. 

He did not have the mental fortitude to question it.

'Dumb motherfuckers!' Bubby taunted, taking off his glasses to wipe away the condensation. 'Why didn't you say they were stupid as all fuck?!' Bubby slammed the comical brown bag down onto the table, it making a dull _clank_ , face twisted in triumph. Gordon added his bag to the table, his smile just as devious. 

'They let us walk right on in to the vault.' Gordon's laughs were silent, the only indication being his shaky hands and shoulders. 'They really are dumb fucks. P O G.' Even though he didn't understand a lick of ASL at the time, he was still outraged at what he'd just signed.

'YOU DON'T JUST ROB A **_BANK_**!!! WHAT THE **_FUCK_**!!!'

'Chill ouuuut, Fakedon, they don't know shit. Literally! Why didn't you say the security was piss poor? We would have done that _way_ sooner!'

'Wonderful work, you two! Oh, I do love a good thrill! I wish you had asked us to join you!'

'Next time, dear Harold!'

' ** _THERE_ IS _NO NEXT TIME_** '

The others packed away their stuff and counted their loot while he and Bubby had a Heated Discussion, Gordon throwing in his defences with a red face. The rest of the science team returned to luke warm soda and tacky gifts, Benrey happily filling them in on their day. Sunkist tackled him to the ground and licked his face before doing the same to Bubby and Gordon. Darnold clapped and the G-Man smiled. Forzen mumbled something about a "good job". The rest of the day was spent in anxious fear, his heart jumping every time any kind of too loud car drove by. He had nightmare scenarios about the coppers busting into the house to take them all away, but thankfully, nothing like that happened.

He told Bubby and Gordon that they were not to leave the house anymore without adult supervision for a Long Time. They booed and called him a whore. Benrey's cackles were obnoxiously loud the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this ones so fucking long like i said before i fucking hate this chapter  
> turquoise to honey means that was pretty funny  
> edit 11/11/2020: LONG overdue, but I FINALLY removed the brackets for Gordon's signs! thank you to Mythyk for the gentle reminder! I hope y'all are doing okay and are staying safe!  
> reading this back so far in the future is kind of embarrassing, I'm not gonna lie 3dsfghv


	10. Think of all the shit that came and went, you'd think it's the wheel you'd reinvent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, this has descriptions of ASL! please let me know if i did something wrong!  
> im not fond of this chapter either but im sick of looking at it

**started: 8/6/2020**

* * *

It had been a while since they'd gotten a proper storm, with the deep grey clouds, booms of thunder, flashes of lightning, howls of wind. It lashed against rooves and gardens in a relentless cascade, and it wasn't long before the world became drenched.

Benrey, donned in his Black Mesa helmet (that he seemed very adamant in taking off), a "Gamers don't die, we respawn!" shirt, and a slim pair of twitch chat "wut" pj's, stood outside in it, his arms outspread in a T-pose. His face was tilted toward the sky, eyes closed, expression emotionless, and he was utterly soaked through. He never flinched at a single boom or flash, nor did he react to the torrent punching him square in the face, staying as still as a rock. Benrey seemed at peace; calm and content, more than happy to be pelted with rain, and it was probably the most calm he had ever seen Benrey.

'He's gonna get sick.' He said offhandedly to a dozing Gordon, who was slumped by his side. 'He's gonna get sick and then wonder why he's sick.' His arm was lightly tapped, and he turned to face the half lidded gaze of Gordon.

Gordon placed his hands at chest level, hands open and palms faced upward. His right hand swooped down to his left, knuckles briefly touching his palm before being brought a short distance up his arm. Then he stroked at his goatee with his left hand twice. All the while, his expression was a tired kind of warm.

'New experience.' He was still new with sign language, but he managed to get the gist well enough thanks to Benrey and Bubby's countless hours of help. His memory had always been great. He hummed at that; it never had rained back at Black Mesa, had it? And even if it had, it wouldn't have been the real thing. He shrugs, and makes a none-committed grunt.

'Eh, I guess. You're taking care of him though, if he even _can_ get sick. Not me.' Gordon's shoulders shook with silent laughter. 

'O K.' He finger spelled.

The pair continued to watch Benrey, his clothes stuck to his form. And then, Benrey just. Flopped backwards. He hit the grass with a tremendous _splat_ , muddy water pooling around his body in a moat, his arms remaining out stretched. It was like he _wanted_ to drown. His eyes remained closed, expression never changing, and he wondered, not for the first time, just what kind of creature Benrey was. He felt rather than saw Gordon huff with fond chuckles. 

'Dude, he's gonna get sick.' 

'You know, I honestly don't think any of us _can_ get sick.'

'... I fucking hate video games, man, I really do.' Gordon could only shrug at that.

It was another lazy half hour before Benrey sneezed out a burst of white Sweet Voice(tm). He clambered to his feet, a deep dark patch of mud stuck to his entire backside. Heavy with rain and dirt, he trudged his way back inside, tracks of dark pools left in his wake that he did not give a single shit about.

'... You're gonna get sick.' He warned Benrey when he stepped through the doorway. Benrey stopped to stare at him with the most boredest expression he could muster, droplets of water acting as his second mask. He himself had turned into a rain cloud, yet even as drops got into his eyes, he didn't seem phased by it. He really was just a weird little man. Benrey did a little wave to Gordon, who did a little wave back, and then he sang a short stream of green to grey at him, maintaining their stare.

'.......... Sick.' Benrey replied with a lazy peace sign once his song was done, before making a slow beeline for the bedroom. A deep scowl marked his expression, and he moved to stand up.

'Asshole, don't go to the bedroom.'

'I'm goin' to bed.' He could hear the grin in Benrey's voice.

'Fuck _off_ , dude-'

'I'm _going_ to bed-'

'You don't even _need_ sleep - you're gettin' your shit everywhere dickhead-'

'I'm GOING to BEEEEED-'

He left his spot to chase a now fleeing Benrey, dirty wet spots left in the carpet that he stepped in (in socks! he was wearing _socks_!) which made him curse Benrey out louder. 

'Whats happening in here?' Darnold inquired once the pair had left the room, too late to the party.

'Wet socks.' Was Gordon's only reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> white means i'm alright  
> green to grey means i'm gonna be okay


	11. I guess I'll throw it all away, because i'm not good enough to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Capitalisation added! I apologise for the inconvenience; I have been writing in lower caps for years. I genuinely didn't realise it was a problem for some people.  
> You may have an angst. Just a one. As a treat.

**started: 8/6/2020**

* * *

'Fakedon, we're going to die one day, aren't we?'

It is precisely 3:08am on a Friday, the pair stood in the dimly lit kitchen making sandwiches for themselves (even though Dr Coomer had no need to eat, he still indulged in it from time to time). The radio is low, early morning tunes of old love songs as their soft ambience, with a lazy voice and shitty ads filling in the short breaks. He stares down at the knife in his hand, turning it over and over, before continuing the mindless motion of slicing up a cucumber. It hadn't been the first time they had been up too late to feast, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. 

'Yeah. ... Yeah, we are.' He was sombre, hard hitting. From his peripheral, he sees Dr Coomer nod.

'I ... suppose that's the way mortality works here. No coming back, ey? No ah, respawn to save us this time!' There's a short pause between them, filled in by a love song from an older time.

'I don't think I ever got the story on how you're existing here, y'know.' 

He reaches for the packet of meat, slapping a healthy dose onto the bread before adding the cut up tomato and cucumber on top. His sandwiches never tended to make sense. Dr Coomer mixes everything he'd prepared in a bowl - cucumber, beet root, lettuce, tomato, meat. He enjoyed the healthy snacks over junk food.

'We're still not sure on the specifics of that, either.' Dr Coomer was slow with his words. 'I do believe it has something to do with your computer system, though. Has it stayed on sleep mode this entire time?'

Since their arrival, no one had braved the room with the computer. Not even Forzen had bothered to mess with it since, making it a point to stick to the laptop. It had sat, alone, forgotten - left to inhale dust and collect spiders through their stay. He shrugs in return at the question.

'Haven't been in there.' He hears rather than sees Dr Coomer nod that time. 'I uh. I hope that's not how that works. I mean, what if there's a power cut? Would that mean you'd just.' He shudders to think about it, but he spits the words out anyway. 'You'd just disappear? Get-get sucked back in there or something?'

'It's a possibility.' He, too, is blunt in his honesty. 'These things never do tend to stay solid. What would life be if there were no risks?'

'Peaceful. It'd be peaceful.'

'Ah, but then there would be no adventure!' His movements stop, and he glares down at the wooden cutting board with a twisted face. He isn't silent long before he starts talking, this time with an edge to his voice that Dr Coomer has never heard before.

'I. ... I don't know if you dickheads disappearing from my life with literally no warning, just because a computer got "disconnected", counts as a very good adventure, man.'

Neither look at each other as the weight of their conversation settles in. Chopped food goes ignored as they try and sort through their burning thoughts and feelings. Not even the tones of the radio can brighten their mood.

'I don't.' He stops, breaths. Tries to control his wall of emotions. 'You guys have- ... You've been the best thing to ever happen to me, and. And I don't want you fuckers just. ... To just up and _vanish_. You're my friends, and-' A hand lands on his shoulder, a comforting weight that crashes his speech. He peeks at Dr Coomer, for the first time since they'd started their early morning tradition, and as always, he is warm and thoughtful, a soft shine in his eyes that alleviates some of his deepest fears. 

'You are our friend too, ******.' Real name. That was his real name. He'd used his _real name_. He didn't remember _ever_ telling Dr Coomer his real name. 'I'm sure we won't disappear. Not that easily; it's going to take a lot more than a power cut to get rid of us! We have wriggled ourselves thoroughly into your life, and by golly, we are going to stick around until the end! The only thing that will take us is the natural balance of life!' Harold squeezes his shoulder, a spring in his voice that comes with (coded) years of wisdom and bouts of confidence. 'We are your friends, too. And believe me, we are _not_ going anywhere.'

He lets the tears slide, cheeks scarlet, chest full. It has been a very long time since he'd heard anyone use those kinds of words. 

It is precisely 3:49am on a Friday, the pair embraced in a hug in the dimly lit kitchen. He cries into Dr Coomer's shoulder, and Dr Coomer rubs his back in soothing circles, their food forgotten. The radio continues to supply the mood with a soft spoken tenderness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dr coomer: ah hello ******  
> fakedon in tears: how the fuck did you do that with your mouth


	12. Looks like the notes you played were wrong, and you should give up before too long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stuff written in bold is forzen speaking french because i dont know a lick of it and im not gonna butcher it with google translate ag3vhdsgvfh  
> also this hit over 100 kudos'!!! wahoo!!! thank y'all so much!!!

**started: 11/6/2020**

* * *

'Sup.'

'Howdy.'

'I have a job now.' He spat mid drink. 'Gross.'

'W-what? A _job_? What the fuck do you need a _job_ for?' He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, side eyeing Forzen like he'd grown a second head. He always forgot that Forzen's shoulders were as wide as a fucking door way until he was right in front of him, his size never failing to unnerve him. 'What kind of job did you even get?'

'Shelf stocker.' Forzen was like Benrey in the expression department - he barely had any. 'Was gettin' bored. Only so many times I can dislike videos, **because fuck Irate Gamer**.'

'Oh.' He didn't know what the fuck he'd just said at the end. He took a slow slurp of his energy drink, carefully thinking through his words. He almost laughed out loud, at a man the size of Forzen stocking shelves. A fucking- a stacked, shit-brick house of a guy, putting packets of cookies and tins of soup onto a shelf. What a fucking sight that would be. 'Uh. Good for you, man; getting a job these days is hard as shit-.' 

'Quite the contrary, Fakedon!' His drink was split rather than spat that time, jumping a foot in the air at Dr Coomer's sudden arrival.

' ** _FUCK_** -'

'I have also obtained a job, and it is at the local gymnasium! It starts next week!' 

'How the fuck did _you_ get a job?!'

'Why, it was simple, Fakedon! I walked in and asked for one!'

'But you-you need an _interview_! A _resume_! You have to wait at _least_ six weeks before they give a shit about your call! Do you guys even _have_ resumes?! You can't just, _do_ that, can you?! Was I fucking taught wrong about this shit?!' 

'Well that's what I did! I demanded they give me a place, and I got one, and now I start next week!' He darted his eyes between Forzen and Dr Coomer, completely lost. They provided no further explanation.

'Oh y'all talking about dumbass jobs?' Benrey popped up behind his shoulder, marking it a third time he'd spilt his drink across the table. 'Yeaaaaah I got one too, at Gamestop. Not as bad as it could be I guess.'

'How the fuck did _you_ , of _all_ fucking people, get a fucking _job_.' 

'Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh. .................................. Wuh?' 

'I have one too!' Darnold called from the kitchen. Forth time he'd knocked his drink on to the table - the wood was getting more slurp action than he was at that point. 'I'm going to work at a book store! It's quite the step away from potions, but I'm hoping to do more research to create better variations!' 

'Oh, how wonderful!' Dr Coomer beamed, his hands linked together in a swoon. 'We are all becoming functioning members of society, not only in appearance, but in our daily activities, too! I cannot wait!'

'Ooooh, job celebration!!' Tommy cheered as he entered the scene.

'Jesus _fucking_ christ-' Fifth time the table got a sip instead of him. 

'My dad got me a job at Starbucks!' Sunkist howled, which made it a sixth time. The spots of fizzy liquid rumbled off the table and sunk into the carpet. 'I-I-I've been spending allllll week trying to remember the combinations, but there's soooo many; I'm still reading all the books about it! And there are _so many_ books, Mr Fakeman'

Benrey snatched the can from him when it became apparent that he wasn't gonna drink it, and he drained the rest in one swig, a long, disgusting burp escaping him when he was done. He just could not win today, huh. 'Look at us, we're people.' Benrey said before he could call him out on his thievery. 'That's uh. That's pretty cool I guess.'

A part of him worried about this sudden, new development. Of course he was nervous - he knew what they were like. He knew where they had come from. To have them wondering around, in the real world, among real people, with real jobs, worried the fuck out of him. Now Darnold, he trusted - that man had done no wrong in his life, his only promise of violence in wanting to create an evil Powerade(tm), but the others? What if they blew up an entire building? What if they actually killed someone? What if some special team force realised what they were and kidnapped them, and then he'd never see them again? 

'Yo, don't worry man.' Benrey whispered to him, a soft nudge at his shoulder. He looked over in time to see Benrey crumple the soda can into a ball and pop it into his mouth; watched him chew, then swallow, which made the most God awful scrape kind of noises he'd ever heard in his life. No one called it out, and the fact that he wasn't even a little bit freaked out over Benrey _eating metal_ proved how desensitised he'd become to the science team's bullshit. 'We'll be fiiiine; stop-stop being such a dad, bro.'

'I am _not_ being a dad you weirdo, I just. ... Y'know.'

'We'll be fine, Dr Fakeman! Don't you worry! Why, this is a new opportunity for us to enjoy a little more of what this world has to offer without having to venture out too far!' Darnold looked happy about it. And so did everyone else, in their own ways. 'Little steps at a time!'

Okay. Yep. He could do little steps at a time. Yeah, no problem. He trusted them, no matter their oddities. Surely they'd be fine on their own.

He asked the others, later, if they'd gotten jobs, too. 

'Me and Bubby are wanted criminals right now, so we are laying low.' It took a few seconds for him to connect Gordon's fingerspells on Bubby's name, but when he figured it out, he couldn't help but feel pride for himself.

'Oh right, because of the bank robbery?' Gordon nodded, though he didn't look all that bothered about it. Then he tapped his chin with a thoughtful expression.

'But if I _were_ to pick a place, it would be at the library with Darnold.' Gordon fingerspelt Darnold's name, too, which took a bit longer for him to piece together. Somehow, Gordon wanting to work at the library made sense to him.

Bubby straight up laughed in his face when asked about it.

'Job? Why would I want a _job_? I escaped Black Mesa for a reason, y'know! Jobs are pure shit! Imagine being a test tube baby only to escape into the real world and get a _job_. I'm not a loser like all of you.' And really, who could argue with that. 

'What about your dad, Tommy? Has he gotten a job?'

'Oh! No, he just exists.'

He guessed that made sense, too.

* * *

It was a solid month later before, 'Got fired.'

At 2 in the morning. Only him, Gordon, and Darnold slumbered at the reasonable hour, everyone else doing. Things. The only thing he could see within the sea of darkness was the white gleam of Benrey's eyes, staring at him head on.

'Wuh.'

'Got fired, bro, you're deaf. You-you need to clean your ears out. Gross gamer. Gross-gross gamer ears, haha.'

'Benrey it's too fuckin' early for your bullshit.' 

'But I got fired.'

'Tell me 'bout it when it's a normal fuckin' time man.' Darnold grumbled something from the right side of the room, and he felt the shift of Gordon wave an arm around in lazy agitation next to him. 'Too early.'

The last thing he remembered was the hazy feeling of the bed dip behind him, an arm snaking around his waist and a nose being buried into the back of his neck.

* * *

'Hey, I thought you didn't need to sleep?'

'I don't.'

'Then what-'

'Don't worry 'bout it.'

'... Okay.' A bout of silence. 'So how'd you get fired, anyway?'

'Someone was having an uncool gamer moment inside the store so I just. Made it a cool gamer moment.'

'And how'd you make it cool.' Benrey didn't respond, staring into space. '... Benrey, you can't tell me you got fired and then not tell me the real reason why.'

'He punched some dudes lights in.' Forzen stepped in, a soda with a straw in hand. 'Saw it happen; I work across the street from him.' Benrey released a stream of orange to brown Sweet Voice(tm) before snapping his attention to him with a gleam of mischief.

'Like I said,' Benrey murmured with an uninterested shrug, 'I made it cool. And then I got fired.'

'It _was_ pretty cool.' Forzen burped over a loud slurp.

'Oh yeah, I'm also like, not allowed in any Gamestop places like, forever now, 'cause of that.'

'You. You got _mass banned_ from all the Gamestop's. For _punching_ someone.'

'Yeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaap.'

'Aw epic dude.'

'Thanks bro.'

As Benrey and Forzen high fived and Forzen spilt his drink onto the carpet, he buried his face into his hands, and deeply sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orange to brown means the gamers are acting like a clown


	13. But if I pretend to believe, that I'm good enough to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bleh i'm not happy with this one either  
> i don't own half of the games mentioned here sghvdfsghv fake gamer  
> also changed chapter 12's name cause i don't think the lyrics would fit otherwise  
> again, thank you for all the kudos' and comments!!! it's nice to see people enjoying this, cause i was worried people wouldn't!

**started: 9/6/2020**

* * *

Benrey had bought him a video game.

His first instinct was to go "Well holy shit! Thank you for the gift my treasured beloved friend!", but the thought that instantly squashed that praise and love was "Wait, holy shit, _HE'S_ a video game! He's _FROM_ a video game, which means the A.I within _any_ video game in the _world_ has the chance to not only be sentient, but _also_ become real!". 

His second instinct was to have an internal freak out because of that. God, he loved the A.I's with his entire fucking heart and soul, but he sure as _fuck_ did _not_ want any more characters living under his roof. Especially not A.I from fucking _Bloodborne_. Vicar Amelia? The Accursed Ludwig? The Bloodstarved Beast? All in the real world and probably inside his house, with characters alongside Half Life? No Fucking Thank You!

'Oooooh shit, right, okay, sort of uh, forgot about the whole. A.I thing. About us, okay,' Benrey stuttered at his mortified expression, as if he could read his mind on what the exact problem was. He probably could - it really wouldn't surprise him if that was a thing Benrey could do. Bubby had set fire to the microwave with his mind at least four times that week alone; if Benrey could read people's minds? Sure man. _Fuck_ it. What the fuck ever. 'Yo Coomer.'

'Ah! Hello, Benrey! Hello, Fakedon!' He almost suffered a heart attack then and there when Dr Coomer slid onto the scene with zero noise, a ray of sunshine as always. 'How may I help my two greatest friends!'

'I bought Fakeman this game but he's worried about an A.I event number two thing happenin', so uh, do me a solid and check real quick?' Benrey thrust the Bloodborne case toward Dr Coomer, who leaned all the way in until his nose was smushed up against the case. A hand flew to his chin, a deep set concentration lining his expression, and a drawn out 'hmmmmmmmmmmmmm' was their only ambience for twenty solid seconds. It was another twenty before Dr Coomer snapped back to full height with a laugh of triumph that made him bounce away from the pair in shock.

'Wonderful! Fakedon, I can clarify, with absolute, 100% certainty, that this copy of Bloodborne for the Play Station 4: Entertainment System is not possessed by any self aware artificial intelligence!'

'See bro? It's safe. We're-we're the only monsters haunting your house.'

'And it has been a pleasure haunting your house!'

After that, Benrey just. Kept buying him video games, for a wide spread of different consoles. Sometimes it was a new copy of a game he'd never heard of, still encased in the seal; sometimes it was an old copy, passed down from gamer to gamer, also of games he'd never heard of. He had no idea how or where he was obtaining them, the cases seeming to maifest from thin air. Benrey always did the unspoken favour of having Dr Coomer inspect the cases for any self aware A.I's, and so far, all of them had turned up negative. He wondered why they were the only ones allowed to be self aware, and then just as quickly dismissed the thought. 

'Hey Benrey, why'er you buying me all these?' He asked after Benrey gifted him Skullmonkey's.

'Didn't uh, look like you were a real gamer. Shitty-shitty Fakedon with all the, all the consoles but none of the games. Can't have that man, so I'm uh, filling in the shelves, y'know. Gonna get you on them epic kill streaks.'

''Course I have games, it's just. ... You know, it didn't seem right playing 'em with uh, you guys around, y'know? The whole A.I thing fucked me up; didn't want it to happen again, so I. I'd stopped, playing games.' Benrey gave him a curious look before understanding dawned. His features turned soft at the drop of a hat.

'Aw, lil baby man didn't play a single video game 'cause of us? Like-like a loser? Well what've you gotta be scared of now, huh?' He let a smile grace his face regardless of Benrey's wording. 'So are you gonna show me your secret stash or what bro? I _know_ it's somewhere.'

It took an hour of digging to find his stash of old goodies, but find them they did, and it was hilarious to watch Benrey become speechless. '... Yooooooooo, Gamecube? AND Billy Hatcher? ... Bro what the fuck you got a PS2 _and_ Oddworld Abe's Oddysee in here? _AND_ Spyro 2??? You've seriously been holding out on me bro, what the fuck, we have to set these up _right now_.'

They set up the Gamecube first, the next day. He still had his old memory card, much to the delight of Benrey. After the old games were checked out by Dr Coomer, all also coming back negative, the rest of the evening was spent circling through the various discs - Sonic Adventure 2, Billy Hatcher, Super Mario Sunshine, Pokemon Colosseum, Taz Wanted, Pikmin, Super Smash Bros Melee.

Some games, like Sonic Adventure 2, he knew like the back of his hand. He still had the old save file of his Chao gardens, untouched for twenty years, and the names of all his different Chao made Benrey giggle. 'Seriously man? "Honey"?' 'What?! I was like, twelve!'

Other games were hazy; he hadn't been much of a fan of Sunshine as a kid, but replaying it through, especially with company, made it a lot more fun. He couldn't understand why having an audience made it so fun to play, even if the audience howled and jabbed every time he slipped off the edge, which happened a _lot_. 

Soon, after switching to Melee, Darnold joined the party game carnage. The brawls were evenly matched between the two A.I's; Benrey's merciless Fox against Darnold's careful Samus, while his Kirby was left in the dust without remorse. Tommy was next to pick the player 4 spot, kicking all of their asses as Pikachu. And finally, Forzen joined the game, where he and Forzen switched places since he was losing so astronomically; sometimes he won first place, other times he was dead last as Peach. All in all, with the occasinal tag out, it was a really fun time, even if he was having his entire life handed to him.

'What a waste of time.' Bubby snapped from the kitchen when the group was on their second hour of making his life a misery. 'And Melee? Really? Fucking casuals.'

'We could beat your ass easy, old man.' Forzen challenged. Bubby rose a brow.

'As if I'd want to fall to you losers' level.'

'Ooooh, y'all hear that?' Benrey taunted, his grin sharp. 'Bubby's a little pussy bitch. A little-a shaky lil boy. Afraid he's gonna get beat 2 outta 3.' 

'I'd beat your ass with my eyes closed, 3 out of 5.'

'Yeah?' 

Bubby marched right on to the scene. He flapped his hands at Tommy to move, and move Tommy did, giving Bubby his space. Then he held out a hand for the controller, which Tommy passed along with an excited grin. With Benrey's eyes creased, the rest of them quit out to give them the floor, excited for the show.

'If I win five times, you owe me 100 dollars.'

'Fucking _easy_.'

Needless to say, Bubby won every single 1 v 1 with Benrey, Ness vs Fox, no items, final destination. Benrey, emitting a stream of red coded Sweet Voice, spluttered and raged about the losses, calling Bubby's wins "bullshit" and "all kinds of hacks" that made him and the rest of the sat out participants cry with laughter.

'Doctor Bubby fucking them up!' Dr Coomer absolutely bellowed from the kitchen, a bowl of pop corn in hand. The G-Man, too, stood beside him with a shit-eating grin.

Benrey, begrudgingly, with loud, un-pleased mutters, gave Bubby his promised 100 dollars. Bubby stuffed the mountain into his back pocket with a satisfied hum. He gave the controller back to a red faced Tommy, stood from the couch, walked to the kitchen, and was instantly spun around and dipped low by Dr Coomer, who then proceeded to kiss Bubby senseless. The bowl of popcorn had been dropped on the floor because of Dr Coomer's action, since he hadn't set the bowl down, the corn spread wide.

From the stair way, Sunkist let out a wall grinding "awoo" that showed her support of gay rights, and the G-Man did a little clap at their display. Their barks of laughter picked up again when Dr Coomer pulled Bubby up to his feet, and Bubby instantly swayed into Dr Coomer's shoulder, his smugness replaced for a cloudy kind of love.

Benrey leaned into his shoulder, Darnold a comforting weight on his other side, and he felt rather than heard Forzen grunt a soft tune. The _tap tap tap_ of their controllers picked up again as they eased into a new match, the gentle lulls of conversation floating in from the kitchen, Benrey instantly talking shit the second they loaded into a game that had Tommy giggle up a storm.

And it all felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> red means you're dead


	14. Was it worth the time you spent? I do think so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> body horror in this one! it starts at the sentence: 'So you're a monster? Like, actually?'

**started: 14/6/2020**

* * *

Retail sucks. 

'But my coupons are in _date_!'

'It says here that they're not, I really dunno what to tell you-'

'Then I _demand_ to speak to the manager!'

'Yeah I bet you fuckin' do-'

He'd lost count on how many times this exact scenario had happened, and quite frankly, he was getting real fucking sick of it. Behind the red-in-the-face lady was a line of other people, all tapping their feet, loudly sighing, rustling their baskets around, looking at their watches like they were in a rush to make some other cashier's life a misery. Like it was _his_ fault for the hold up when he just wanted to do what he was being paid for. And checking a customers out of date coupons and _then_ having a war with said customer over said coupons was _not_ one of the things the job paid him for. 

He picked up the phone and punched in a number he knew would lead to a dead tone, intent on putting on a show. It was close to clock-out; he'd _really_ had enough of the nine to five, hell bent on not wanting the manager to get involved and extend his work time, and he was willing to commit a mild felony just to avoid more store trouble. Was fake-ringing the manager considered a felony? He guessed he'd find out soon enough.

There were words all around; lazy from him and anger from the customer that would have over ridden the phone call. After five long minutes of speaking and hearing shit, he put the phone down with a heavy _clunk_ and shrugged, giving her his most apologetic smile that was more on the edge of a fuck you grin.

'Sorry Miss; boss says she can't do nothing either. Said "if they're outta date, they're outta date". Just gotta pay-'

'This is an _outrage_!' She slammed the coupons onto the check out desk, it making a dull _pop_. 'I checked these _specifically_ this morning, and they _are_ in date! They take $5 off my total purchase! Call the manager down here and I'll show her _myself_! I did the math to the _dot_! I-'

''Scuse meeeeeee.' His head whipped around to find Benrey stood just beside him behind the counter, dressed in the Black Mesa security uniform. He hadn't even realised that his vision had tunnelled in on the lady; why the fuck was Benrey here, and why the fuck was he wearing his video game uniform, of all fucking things???

Benrey, accompanied with the shit brick house that was Forzen (God he'd never get used to his 6'6 wrestler body - even if he was plastered in Hawaiian prints, he was still fucking _scary_ ) slipped himself between the check out and the lady, using his 6'4 height to his full advantage to loom over her. His eyes were piercing, expression deadpan, taking on a serious demeanour that was entirely foreign to him. 'Sorry but uh, is there a problem here Miss?'

' _Finally_! Someone with half a brain!' The lady scooped up the coupons and shoved them into Benrey's face, who barely flinched at the invasion of privacy. 'This _idiot_ is saying that these are out of date, and I demand a full check up to prove that they are _not_! I find it hard to believe the machine's broken, so my strongest guess is that **_He_** ,' A wild wave of the arm in his general direction, her eyes never leaving Benrey's, 'Is _broken_!'

'Whaaaaaat, you're broken bro?' Benrey tipped his head toward him in an owl like fashion, almost on the brink of unnatural. He shrugged at him, lost. _What the fuck is Benrey doing?_ 'Aw man, that's a big suck. Anyway,' Benrey brought his attention back to the lady, his head rolling uncomfortably around on his neck. 'Would you like to order something, Miss?'

'... I beg your pardon?' 

'We got, we got friiiies, and we got, freesh hambugerrrrrs,' By now, the bolts holding the lady's head together had blown clean off. Steam would have poured out of her ears if she were a cartoon character. He'd never seen a person's head become that red; she looked like a strawberry. With every drawn out word Benrey said, the lady became more and more strawberry kin, and just behind her, Forzen was finding it harder to contain his laughter.

'What on _earth_ is this establishment!!!!!!' She cut in after Benrey's fourth run through of their none existent menu, her teeth bared. 'I will be filling _every complaint under the **BOOKS**_ -'

'You want a soda with that or-' 

'I will shop here **NO LONGER**! You are loosing a valuable customer on this day, and I advise everyone else here,' She turned her head toward the line, 'To do the same!!! Good _**DAY**_.' With that, she took her out of date coupons, stuffed them into her purse, and left the store, with only the clacks of her heels left in her wake. Her basket full of stuff was left behind, a reminder of a vital customer they had lost on that day. He stared at Benrey, dumbfounded by the event.

'Benrey, what the _fuck_?' Despite what had happened, the next person in line shuffled to the front, their basket shoving the discarded one to the side. Benrey moved out of the way to let them through, and much like a vulture waiting for its moment to strike the dead, he stood his ground and watched. The persons stuff was beeped through and packed, all while casting Benrey nervous glances, and their grocery's were paid for, all without a hitch. A gentle "thank you, goodbye" was said, and then the stranger was leaving. Benrey remained in place, back straight, hands clasped behind his back, leering at them with promises. It was giving him the serious creeps - he hadn't seen Benrey act like that since Black Mesa, all that time ago, and even then, this kind of behaviour had been pretty much none existent.

'What the fuck are you doing man?'

'Observing.' He couldn't think of any way to respond to that. 

The rest of the customers filtered through without so much as a bad word. No more coupons were shoved at him. No one berated him. No one asked to talk to the manager. Benrey had not moved from his spot the entire time - not until the last person in his line had paid and left. Forzen, too, had been a silent over watcher from a distance, his Hawaiian clothes and sunhat a threatening display for a man so huge.

Benrey and Forzen were doing guard work. 

They were helping him.

'Huh. Retail sucks, bro.' Was the first thing Benrey said once the store was relatively empty, moving to stand next to him behind the counter. 'How do you put up with that?'

'I don't.'

'Soda.' Three cans of Mountain Dew were placed on the counter by Forzen, who had come from nowhere. Benrey whipped out 10 dollars from his back pocket, shoved the bills into his hand, then took a can and cracked it open, taking the longest, loudest, most vilest sip he could muster. Forzen joined him in the gross slurpage that had him cringing away in disgust.

'You fucks are gonna get me fired.' Forzen muttered something in French, and Benrey just grinned at him.

Despite this, he pocketed the soda anyway.

* * *

It happens again.

He wasn't sure _what_ happened, not really. He just knows that it happened again.

He watches from the store window, and see's the shadows act it out instead of the people. See's a shadow far too wide and tall to be human thrown against the alley wall, much like a nightmare. Hears noises that could never come from a human, watches the shadow of the monster move in unnatural ways, accompanied with a loud, blood curdling scream. Then he see's a man - pale faced, wide eyed, a blur of motion - pelt out of the alley way and down the street at a break neck pace, shouting about this and that - _monster, a monster, holy shit there's an actual monster here, run for your life_. He recognised the man in an instant; a fresh face in the store not an hour ago that had called him all the names under the sun over - you guessed it - his coupons being registered as out of date. 

A minute later, Benrey emerges from the same alley, hands shoved in his pockets, his yawn so big he could see his sharp canines even from across the street. It's a sheer miracle that no one else had been around to witness or hear it, whatever it was that Benrey had done. He thanks his lucky stars that he lives in a considerably empty part of town.

It's another hour before the same man from before, still with a panicked sheen in his eyes, shambles his way inside. He marches directly up to him, and says, in the most cowardice voice he's ever heard, 'I am profusely sorry for my actions and the distress I caused you earlier, please call off your rabid guard bird monster thing, I promise to never slander or curse you out and I humbly promise that from this day forward, should we ever cross paths again, I will treat you with the upmost respect.' His manner and words were a far cry from the sharp tones of earlier, but he isn't given the opportunity to respond and ask what the fuck he's talking about, the man skittering out the door and down the street in a rush.

He finishes up his shift and returns home to his full, bustling house, feeling weirdly warm in the chest. Oh sure, Benrey being an actual eldritch horror in the real world is a whole other can of worms, but, right then and there, he is happy. 

No one has ever stood up against the customers like that.

By the end of the week, he still has his job, he's received zero complaints, and barley any coupons are thrust at him. Benrey had done more against the onslaught of customers in a single week than the manager had ever done in two whole years.

He supposes his life is more than okay.

* * *

'So you're a monster? Like, actually?' Benrey rose a brow at that. 'Like, can you turn into one?'

'That shit? That's just a party trick bro.'

'But you _can_ turn into one?'

'What, you want a show or something? A lil-a lil demonstration? Alright, since you asked; check it.' He points under his own chin, and then his neck begins to stretch outwards, away from his torso and high, high, high into the air. It swoops from left to right as if it's a snake, the skin becoming gross and flabby. The growth of the neck finally stops, before numerous mouths pop up and down it, curving around to the back. They split open into sinister grins, jagged teeth poking out in all directions that glint with a feral kind of sharpness.

His head becomes flat and large, nose curving into a beak, ears flattening into his head. Rows upon rows of eyes light up the entire width of his face, all in different shapes and sizes and colours, all glaring down at him. One single mouth opens up on his forehead, just under the Black Mesa helmet, larger and sharper than the ones on his neck. A waterfall of drool drips down, trailing around the eyes and dripping off a none existent chin, each eye blinking independently, all with their own minds. His skin grows ashen; a sickly kind of drained out red that leaves him looking more on the dead side. Thankfully, despite his owl appearance, he didn't acquire any feathers. He would have fallen over cold if Benrey had started popping with feathers. Not that he's doing any better at the transformation anyway. 

Through the change, Benrey's Black Mesa helmet stays on, only fidgeting to accommodate the new space, the eyes simply sinking underneath it. Through his morph, a disgusting _squelch_ noise, that made his blood run cold and eyes water, was consistently present. His new height is at 8 foot from the neck alone, which he had to bend to look at him. He huffs with wheezy hisses, each and every eye - there had to be more than 15 at _least_ \- doing their own thing. Some look at him, some look at the ceiling, some look passed his shoulder, while others roam around the room in a wild search. It makes his skin crawl. 

'See? Party trick bro.' None of the mouths move around the normal, uninterested voice, it coming from nowhere, though the jaw on his forehead _click_ and _clacks_ with idle chewing. On what it's chewing, he _doesn't_ want to know. He feels like he's about to cough up his insides and choke on them.

'Holy shit yeah I can see please change the fuck back to normal oh my fucking god what the fuck is that shit why can you do that holy shit fuck balls _what the **fuck**_ -'

'Chill, man.' It's equally as unpleasant, to watch him revert back to his normal, unbothered façade. His gut squirms as Benrey's neck sinks back into the torso and the eyes fade back into his head and all the rows of mouths disappear, until any trace of what he'd just become has vanished into thin air. As Benrey's normal, tired, human eyes stare into his own, he's left with shaking, numb legs, back firmly pressing against the wall on the other side of the room. The sight makes Benrey laugh. 'Don't uh. Don't ask questions you're not ready to handle the answer to, bro. Might uh, might have a panic attack or some shit, and _that_ would be an epic fail.'

He nods his head so fast he almost snaps his neck. He vows to never bring up Benrey's monster-ness again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres the original for benrey's monster bit. i didnt like it, so i changed it literally today. the wolf head is generic as all fuck, so! owl head! did you know that barn owls can hiss? i find that cool as fuck
> 
> 'yeah, man.' he points at his human face before it painfully slowly morphs into a wolf head, out-fitted with a long muzzle, human nose, and rows upon rows of jagged, miss-matched, razor sharp teeth, poking free from all angles. his head is chock full of eyes, all different colours, rounded and feral, pin pricks aimed right at him. the muzzle curls into a grin at his horrified expression; at the way he shrinked backwards, away from his dishevelled form. the beanie, hilariously, stays snug on the top of his head, not moving an inch even with the change. a disgusting squelch noise was present throughout the shift, that makes his blood run cold and his eyes water. 'see? party trick.' the lips don't move with the voice even as drool leaks over the sides into a disgusting waterfall. 


	15. It was worth the time I spent; it was, I know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing skeletons is like this:  
> you write like 10 to 15 things in a week, and then write something like 2 weeks later that goes between two chapters that fucks up the last chapter, so you spend a few days trying to figure out how to fix it  
> pog

**started: 20/6/2020 / rewrite: 12/7/2020**

* * *

Benrey, Gordon, and Forzen were small scale Youtubers. He found out when Forzen came up to him and asked if he wanted to star in their next video, and after a quick Youtube search, he found their content under the name "gamerbros998". Every time he thought about it, it fucked up his head. He didn't really understand _why_ it fucked up his head, but it did. Who would have thought - three of his family members becoming small scale Youtubers in the span of a few months, and he hadn't even known about it. He would've thought they'd start on Twitch first rather than Youtube, but it's whatever.

They weren't even _good_ Youtubers; most of their videos were in complete silence, the quality grainy and full of pixels and smears, locked at a constant 360p. They were short, the longest being 3 minutes. And whenever something happened in the game that they deemed funny or shocking or cool, a movie-maker-esc panel would slowly morph, or twist, or fade, or explode, onto the screen, with titles such as "whoa!!!" and "so lame!!!" written on them. Each and every panel would last 10 agonising seconds before slowly fading back into the incomprehensible video.

The videos that did have sound had terrible, awful, fucking disgusting, way too loud music, either so choppy you could barely hear it, or just a distorted midi that had nothing to do with the game they were playing. Or, as an alternative, two people would mumble so close to their mics that they could have eaten it and been more understandable. And yet, on every video he'd watched, the views were over 10,000, with a ton of likes, and lots of comments on how good and funny they were. Maybe they had made dozens upon dozens of fake accounts to suck up to their own horrendous content, or maybe they were paying everyone but him off to vouch for their bullshit; whatever the method, it seemed to be working out pretty well. 

The games they played varied, from old classics to triple AAA newbies to games he'd never even heard of before. They ranged from FPS's, to survival, to horror, sometimes coop, sometimes single, not a stone left unturned with the groups exploration in the field of gaming. Some games were in little playlists, like Don't Starve and Pokemon Ramdomizer Nuzlocke's, while others were one off's, like Chulip and Lethal League Blaze. 

He hadn't seen any videos on the Half Life series, and he really hoped it stayed that way. That seemed like a bit too much for him to handle.

'Even a man such as myself finds humour in such, tasteless, things.' The G-Man had rasped when approached about the subject. Apparently he already knew that the group had a Youtube channel?? The G-Man brushed off his soda branded shirt with a flourish of suave, glowing blue eyes never leaving his face. 'It is always healthy to endorse in the, problematic, from time to time, hmm, Dr Fakeman?'

'Ooooh, I love their videos!' Tommy had clapped, beaming a bright smile. 'Their-their game-plays are really interesting to watch! Have you watched the Super Monkey Ball one yet? I can't believe half of their wins! They're like, speedrunner's, Mr Fakeman!'

'Don't be such a sour puss, Fakedon!' Bubby had chimed, arms crossed and his scowl heavy. 'Surely you of all people know how to have _fun_ , right? A _hobby_? Even if it's something as lame as video games!' 

So yeah, Gordon, Forzen, and Benrey were Youtubers, and everyone but him knew about it, and they had been Yotubers for a good couple of months with a steadily growing fanbase. Fucked up world he lived in, huh.

* * *

'Hey man, wanna play a game with us for Yownloader?' 

Forzen approaching him out of the blue was strange. Forzen asking if he wanted to play a video game with them was even stranger. Forzen asking if he wanted to play a video game for their Youtube channel was probably the strangest thing he'd ever heard in his life. He blinked at him, completely taken aback by the out-of-left-field question. It took a couple of seconds for him to remember that he should respond to Forzen's question.

'... Oh! Uh, sure!' He smiled with glee, heart bursting with sudden happiness. 'What kind you got in mind?'

'Hotline Miami 2.' He felt his face fall and his happiness shatter. He saw that Forzen had watched his face fall too, which brought a devious shine to his scrunched up expression. Forzen knew his evil doings. 'Well? You wanna?'

'What the fuck have I said that's pissed you guys off _that_ much?' 

He joined them, anyway.

It was then that he learned they used the X-Box gaming bar to record their sessions, which explained pretty much everything about the quality. They weren't recording the sound this time, which was good, considering the absolute blue streak he strung together the longer they played. They took turns every time someone died, which meant no one was playing a stage for longer than one minute. A minute and a half, if the stage wasn't particularly big. Thirty seconds if the stage had dogs and potted plants. Ten if the stage was a large, open area. The real gamer of them all was Gordon, who lasted the longest in most of his runs.

They laughed and clapped and cheered and swore. The game of spin-around-the-$100-gaming-chair lasted well into the night, until they reached the fifth cassette and called it quits. The recording was over four hours, most of which were spent on one long winded and annoying stage with the cop character, where most of the swearing and retries took place. He'd never seen Benrey so alive and engaged, nor had he heard Forzen laugh as much. Gordon couldn't stop grinning either. 

Even with how painful the game was, they still found joy in it together.

Despite the length they recorded, the real video was only six minutes, but that still put it as one of their longest videos. You couldn't see shit on the screen, it being a mess of bright squares and smears and pixels. It had the faintest hint of editing, but you'd have to squint to really see it. The beginning of the video had a panel that said "NEW GUEST STAR1!1111!!!!!!", and for each of their turns, a bleary "F", "G", "B", or "?" was barely visible in the top left corner of the screen. The music was one single track from the first Hotline game, which marked another tally for the first time they'd used a music track from the same brand of game. The song had the faintest tint of crust, sometimes clipping in and out of sound, which made for an annoying listen.

The song was Hydrogen. Beep beep.

It was their biggest successor. Over 30,000 views, 1,000 likes, and a lot of comments, all praising the mystery mans performance as well as the hilarity of the video itself. Everyone in the house had congratulated them for such a good score on their latest video, and Gordon had suggested he come back for another session some time. They celebrated with soda and loud, shitty music, and Dr Coomer broke all their backs with bone crushing hugs.

So yeah. Benrey, Gordon, and Forzen had a Youtube channel that he'd taken a part in, and it still fucking sucked, but it made them happy, and it apparently made everyone else happy too, so really, who was he to scoff?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also on an unrelated note: i finished all the half life games which is why this took so long! fuck hunters! those fuckers almost gave me an epileptic fit! i am also in love with barney calhoun! fuck!


	16. It was worth the time, it was worth the time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains mentions of spiders! my bud talks about how they have fucking wolf spiders just inside their house, like what the Fuck?? fuck no  
> i got a sudden burst of motivation and i wanted to add one more to here, so pog i guess!

**started: 19/6/2020**

* * *

The day had been peaceful; him and Benrey sat in the kitchen, listening to the late night tunes of the radio, enjoying soda in fancy mugs. They valued their companionable silence together, more than content to watch the sun set into wonderful pinks and purples. It was instantly shattered once he noticed something big and fast move along the plain tile floor, him snapping to his feet within a moments notice, only managing to spill a drop of soda on the table as he slammed it down with a loud _thud_.

'oh _**FUCK**_ -' Benrey, confused, watched him begin to cower away from him, backing up toward the living room doorway. He became pale, sweat beading his forehead, eyes blown wide open.

'Huh? Wuh-'

'there's a _FUCK_ ing _SPId_ er _**RIGHT THE FUCK THERE**_ -' Benrey turned and saw the brown stationary dot on the tile, with eight long juts coming out of its sides. He stared at it for ten quiet seconds before he whistled out a low 'whooooa'. The songs of the radio dimmed out into white noise as he glared down the insanely larger-than-average spider. It looked. _Weird_. Not at all like a common house spider.

'Bro whaaaaaaaat, what the fuck that looks like, like a tiny headcrab or some-'

' _ **OH MY**_ **GOD** -' Another high pitched garble between a whimper and a scream ripped passed his throat as the massive spider skittered across the tile and came to a dead stop in front of Benrey. He hadn't noticed Benrey leave his spot, positioned in the opposite doorway from him. He pointed an accusing finger at the spider, hopping from one foot to the other in panic. He was a cartoon character, stood on an invisible chair, screaming for his cat to come and kill the comically small mouse. ' _OH MY_ GOD _DON'T LET THAT FUCKING THING NEAR YOU OH MY JESUS CHRIST_ **FUCK** _WHAT THE_ **FUCK** _KIND OF SPIDER IS_ **THAT** -'

'Whats the problem bro? She's kinda cute.'

'Ah! That looks to be a wolf spider!' Dr Coomer cheered from the kitchen doorway, standing over Benrey's shoulder to peer down at the arachnid in wonder. His eyes darted from Benrey to Dr Coomer in wild fear. 'Wolf spiders are members of the family Lycosidae, from the Ancient Greek word "λύκος" meaning "wolf"!' He did _not_ understand how Dr Coomer said the Greek word like it was nothing. 'They are robust and agile hunters with excellent eyesight! They live mostly in solitude and hunt alone, and do not spin webs. Some are opportunistic hunters pouncing upon prey as they find it or even chasing it over short distances, while some wait for passing prey in or near the mouth of a burrow! Wolf spiders resemble-'

Benrey had kneeled down some time during Dr Coomer's speech, and he felt like he'd start crying. He could already feel the prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes, which only intensified once Benrey began to lean in, now face to face with the spider. The thing was as large as Benrey's fucking _nose_. 

'Benrey what the **_fuck_ **are you doing man-' Benrey ignored him, hell bent on staring the wolf spider down. His expression was screwed in concentration.

'-Two of the wolf spider's eight eyes are large and prominent, which distinguishes them from the nursery web spiders whose eyes are all of roughly equal size. This can also help distinguish them from the similar-looking grass spiders!' Dr Coomer continued, keeping his gaze locked on the frozen spider.

'Are these things fucking _**VENOMOUS**_???' For all the years he'd lived there, he had never seen a spider quite like that one. All the ones he'd dealt with had been thumbtacks, the only large thing about them being their butts. Never before had he seen one where you could actually see its teeth, or every little twitch of its legs, or two of its fucking eyes. Dr Coomer chirped a little 'ah!' from his spot as Benrey rested on his chest. 

He was gonna die from a heart attack.

'Well Fakedon; Wolf spiders inject venom if continually provoked! Symptoms of their bites include swelling, mild pain, and itching. In the past, necrotic bites have been attributed to some South American species, but further investigation has indicated that those problems that did occur were probably actually due to bites by members of other genera. Australian wolf spiders have also been associated with necrotic wounds, but careful study has likewise shown them not to produce such results!' So, the short version; yes, they were. They only bit when provoked, and what Benrey was doing was a _lot_ like provoking.

'Benrey-Benrey, _please_ , come the fuck away from the spider-' He waved an arm at Benrey to try and gain his attention, practically begging him. He was going to throw up, shit his pants, and start sobbing, all within the same sitting, and Benrey _was not moving away_. 

'Ah, having some, pest, trouble, Dr Fakeman?' The G-Man grated, a tree stood behind him that made him jump six feet forward toward the pair on the floor, and then six feet back, slamming his back into the G-Man's chest. He wasn't sure if he screamed the entire time - he probably did. Hands landed on his shoulders, weights he barely felt over the thunder of his heart.

'Benrey's gonna fucking die.' He rasped, on the verge of a panic attack. The G-Man began to knead at his shoulders, though it proved futile in calming his nerves.

'Not to worry, Fakedon! The spider has not yet reacted in a negative fashion towards Benrey's stare!' He watched, clouded, as Benrey reached out his hands and slowly cupped them around the spider. Watched as his fingers softly bumped into the spiders legs that made it suddenly lurch into movement-

The next thing he knows, he's waking up to several pairs of eyes staring down at him, in a different place entirely. He realises he's in the living room, laid out on the couch. Darnold is the first person he focus's on, a hazy figure who smiles when their eyes meet, reaching out to cup the sides of his face with delicate hands. 

'Ah! H-hello, Dr Fakeman! You uh, passed out!'

'I wuh?' A hand unconsciously grasps at one of Darnold's, warm under his touch. 'I-I passed out?'

'Yeah, man.' The next person he spots is the calm, blurry face of Benrey, stood beside Darnold. He looks as normal as ever. 'Soon as I picked up that mini headcrab you uh, you fell flat. Which, like, what the fuck, bro.'

'Yes! You were out of it for approximately two hours, Fakedon! Forzen had to carry you out of the kitchen to deposit you here!' Dr Coomer fills in, cheerful as ever. 'The spider was safely disposed of outside and no one was harmed! Oh I do love a happy ending!' 

Ah. Right. Wolf spider. Benrey about to pick it up with his bare ass hands. The spider about to launch for his nose. He remembered now.

'You just-' He lets go of Darnold's hand and Darnold lets them slip from his face, and he slowly climbs onto his backside, rubbing the heel of his hand into one eye. He gathers his thoughts before muttering, 'Benrey, did you pick up a fucking _wolf spider_ with your _bare ass hands_?' He looks up to stare incredulously at Benrey, who stares right back at him.

'Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Yeah? What else was I 'posed to do?'

'Uh, use paper and a fucking _cup_ like a _normal fucking person_???' Benrey blinks at him, a brow subtly raised.

'Wuh? I'm not normal bro, I'm a, I'm a gamer.' He decides it's not worth it. At least he isn't fucking dead, he supposes. _Did he not get bitten?_

'Not a fan of spiders, Dr Fakeman?' The G-Man asks from his spot in the corner, almost making his heart stop for the second time that day. He hadn't noticed the fucking tree loom at the other end of the room. 'Hmm, never the less, I gather from your instantaneous reaction that you have never encountered such a, formidable, kind of spider before? I've heard they are a, rather common spices around these parts, but your ah, light headedness, seems to suggest otherwise.'

'Listen man, I dunno _what_ the fuck that kind was-'

'A wolf spider!'

'Yeah, that. I-I ain't never seen one like _that_ before. _Ever_. I can handle spiders but not when they're the size of a fucking, of a-a hand, man.'

'Well, it's gone now! Now we don't have to keep talking about it! Can we talk about something else that isn't about spiders please? That'd be real cool right about now.' Darnold's nervousness was palpable, which elected a nod from Dr Coomer. 

'Well gentlemen, now that this little problem has been resolved and Fakedon is alright, shall we grab some sodas? I believe this calls for a celebration!'

'Sounds cool to me bro.'

'Delightful!'

He's about to respond to their enthusiasm before his eyes suddenly zoom in on a brown dot with eight jutting spikes, stuck to the wall beside the G-Man. The G-Man raises a brow in question at him before understanding dawns on his brow. He doesn't even turn to face it, remaining stone still in his spot. Benrey follows his gaze to the G-Man, his eyes positively lighting up at what he sees.

'Yooooo, she returned. Friend material.'

'Such meddlesome creatures, aren't they, Dr Fakeman?' Again, he doesn't get a chance to respond, because his back thumps against the couch, once again blacked the fuck out.


	17. And now the voice is fucking, dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf gay little found family  
> i went back and spellchecked all the chapters, so some things may be different! not by much but yknow

**started: 22/6/2020**

* * *

He was in a cocoon, limbs coiled around limbs, some people snoring, others quietly chattering. He was smack bang in the middle - Gordon to his left, Benrey to his right, Darnold behind him, Tommy in front of him, and Sunkist behind all of them, letting them use her as a fuzzy wall. Dr Coomer and Bubby were to the right of Benrey, entangled in each other, their voices low enough to be their soft ambience, while Forzen huddled into Gordon's side, his face nestled in the crook of Gordon's neck. The G-Man, as usual, stood off to the side, hands clasped behind his back, though the warmth was still visible on his face no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

None of them breathed. None of them really had heart beats; not that he could feel, anyway. He was the only living soul within the pile of bodies. But their weights were still a comfort, still enough to ground him, still enough to tug him into a deep sense of security. Benrey and Gordon snoozing against his sides, Darnold's chest pressed flush against his back, Tommy leaned into his chest. They were there, warm, real; more alive than he'd ever felt them.

Benrey released a stream of sweet voice, low and quiet. He cracked open an eye to see balls of red and pink disappear into the air, just as quickly as they'd appeared.

'Wassat mean?' He asked despite himself. Benrey slow blinked at him, before digging himself further into his personal space, refusing to answer his question.

'Pink to red means I love this bed.' Tommy mumbled from his space. 

'Oh you mean me? I'm bed?'

'You're bed.' Was Darnold's muffled agreement.

'Comfy.' Gordon lazily confirmed.

'Well _I_ wouldn't lay on you even if you paid me.' Bubby said, his voice heightening. 

'On the contrary! I think you would be an excellent bed, Fakedon!' Dr Coomer reassured. He felt Benrey huff a laugh into his side.

'You're not testing that theory.' Bubby replied, squeezing himself tighter into Dr Coomer's chest. Dr Coomer chuckled and nodded with a gentle grunt before a large hand began to pet at the nape of Bubby's neck, Bubby's snappiness instantly disintegrating into a satisfied grin.

'Gordon better bed.' Forzen spoke up, voice barely audible from Gordon's neck. Gordon blindly patted Forzen on the head that made him hum, before he thread his fingers into the thick matt of Forzen's hair. More content humming could be heard as Gordon ran his fingers through the dirty blond strands.

Quietness washed over them as the group snoozed through the lazy afternoon. Thoughts swirled around his head about how nice it was, his heart suddenly surging with love and warmth and joy and all the other words that could be used to describe the sensations of home. 

He'd finally found it, after years and years of searching. He'd finally found a group of people he loved - a group of people who loved him in return. He'd finally found his place in the world, however small it was. 

He finally felt at peace. 

A bright flash of white brought everyone out of their doze. Several pairs of eyes turned to lock on to the G-Man, camera in hand, a devilish smile across his aged face. Tommy groaned, Darnold hid further into his back, and Gordon lazily waved his free arm in the G-Man's general direction in feigned annoyance. Sunkists' tail softly thumped against the carpet, rumbling happily. 

'Well I couldn't let this wonderful moment go, un-documented, hmm?'

'Daaaaaaaaaad-'

'Epic fail bro.'

'I wasn't even ready! Take it again, but this time focus the camera more on me and Harold, not _these_ losers!' 

He couldn't help but laugh as he rested his chin on top of Tommy's head, eyes closing to take in the sounds of shuffles and cackles and gentle protests, before quietness returned to the scene. Outside, rain pattered against the window, the patters more than enough to further soften the atmosphere. 

What a weird thing it was, to call them a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that, this wraps up whatever the fuck this was! thank you all so much for spending time out of your day to read this, leave comments, and leave kudos'! it really really does mean a whole lot; i wont respond to them because i WILL sound like a broken record, but please know that i Do read them and i Do almost end up crying!!! this has been a blast to work on, and i really didn't expect it to get so big, so thank y'all for indulging me on this fdgvsdfhgv this is the longest thing i've ever worked on in a long long time
> 
> my tumblr is @thisisgermy , if you have anything you wanna ask! again, thank you all so much for reading this!!! have a nice night!!!


	18. Bonus: AAARGGRGARRAAAA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus pog! and it's a gross one! totally skipable, since this has some vivid descriptions of sickness/puking. I've felt like shit for two months so I figured, fuck it! I'll write that down. every one of these slice of life fics has to have a gross one right?  
> there's a slim chance they'll be more bonus stuff in the future. depends if I get any ideas for it! again the only reason I wrote this one is 'cause of how much I've been sick, so pog

**started: 15/8/2020**

* * *

The house had been relatively quiet for the entire day, which, in and of itself, was odd. Dr Coomer hadn't encouraged the boxers on TV at maximum level, Bubby hadn't bitched about a single thing, Forzen hadn't blasted MIDI's and Benrey hadn't played FPS's at 30 decibels, and Gordon hadn't been obnoxiously loud in his activities. It wasn't exactly a lazy day, but it was still. Strange, to say the least. 

On top of that, no one had seen hide nor hair of him. He'd stayed in the bedroom pretty much all day, and only Darnold had peeked a glance of him once, when he'd shambled out to the bathroom like a zombie on its last legs. Darnold had called out a greeting to him, which was met with a vague tilt of the head, and that had been that.

'He looked very ill.' Darnold would say to the G-Man later, brows scrunched in worry and hands clasped together. 'The poor fella looked like he'd seen a ghost!' After that, no one went to visit him, and the Science team napped downstairs on the couches and floor instead of going up to the bedroom.

It turned out it would be Benrey to discover that he was, actually, very ill. He'd heard the noises at around 2AM, when he'd gone to see what the fuck they were and what the fuck was causing them. He'd never heard such disgusting, horrid, brain shivering sounds like those before - a mixture of coughing, hacking, belching, something wet being splashed into a tin, moans and groans and faint sobs, all combined together to create a chorus of misery. Benrey followed it to the bedroom door, tightly shut but not locked, and once he stood outside, silence finally reigned from within.

'Uh, yo, Fakedon?' Benrey called after giving it a moment, a soft knock against the door. 'Uh, you good in there bro?' He didn't answer. Benrey stood still for five seconds before he slowly pushed open the door with a very un-Benrey-like kind of care. 'Hey uh, I'm, I'm comin' in.' The room was cast in darkness, and there was a wretched, acidity smell that suffocated the room, but even through the darkness, Benrey saw two sets of lumps on the middle bed; one being a body, the other being a trash can sat just to his right.

He got closer despite the sight and stench, and, yeah, he looked pretty fucking terrible alright. His face was as white as a sheet, sweat running in streams, hair stuck to his head, eyes dark and glassy and unfocused. He panted through parted lips, arms wrapped around his stomach, gazing up at the ceiling with no actual vision. His body was wracked with shivers, though his teeth clattered as if he was cold. He laid in the sweat soaked, rumpled cocoon of the bed sheet, bare legs propped up as he tried to control his shakes with little success.

'... Whooooa, are you okay??? You're like. Bro what the fuck, are you _dying_??'

'Go 'way.' He wheezed, barely above a whisper. He didn't look at Benrey, nor turn his head in Benrey's direction. A jolt of fear stabbed Benrey directly in the heart, very sudden, very paralysing, very real. He'd never seen him look like that before, act like that before.

Something was really wrong.

'... Fakedon? Are you-'

'Go 'way.' He blinked - once, twice. The third was quicker, before they flew wide open. In a flash, he leaned up, grabbed the bin, put it under his chin, hunched over it, and then started to heave. All Benrey could do was watch, fascinated and disgusted and alarmed, as he coughed and spluttered, those same noises from before sounding off like a tornado siren. Something wet landed in the bottom of the trash can, sweat pouring off him, and he gasped for air like he couldn't get it down his lungs properly. The acidic smell somehow grew even worse, and even when the spillage stopped flowing from his mouth, he still kept coughing and burping and groaning into the trash can.

And Benrey fled. He fled from the bedroom so quickly, he'd managed to clip clean through the stairway wall, then through to the bathroom wall, and then he was outside, and he fell ten feet down into the back garden. He landed on his back with a harrowing _crack_ , though he didn't fracture a bone nor break his spine, because he was Benrey. Tears welled in his eyes as he glared at the starry sky and thought back to the fresh memory of him throwing up his guts, that jolt of fear still present in his chest, and with the dramatic flair of a ten year old, Benrey got up and tumbled his way over to the cracked open kitchen window. He slipped his fingers through the crack, pried it open (which snapped the lock clean off), and climbed through it, thunking into the kitchen sink.

'Ah! Hello, Benrey! Still refusing to use the back door I see!' Dr Coomer greeted with a cheery grin, unphased by his entry, his grin made threatening with the long, sharp knife he wielded to cut up a cooked piece of beef. At 2 in the morning. Upon noticing that Benrey did not move from his space and was, in fact, openly sobbing, Dr Coomer paused in his slices to stare at Benrey, dumbfounded. Fat tears rolled from Benrey's eyes that soaked into his gamer clothes, and even his sobs sounded monotone and bored.

'Fakedon's dyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing' Benrey said between hitched cries, burrowing his face into his hands. 'He's- he's- he's dying and-and I don't know what to do and he-he-he looked so _bad_ and he fucking _stunk_ and he was- I- he's gonna _diiiiiiiiie_ -'

'What the fuck is going on in here?' Bubby peeked his head from the doorway, eyes glaring from Dr Coomer, to Benrey, then back to Dr Coomer. 'What the fuck is he crying about?'

'It appears that Fakedon is ill!' 

'Yeah, we knew that, what's the big party for-' 

'He's **DYING**.' The walls shook from the boom of Benrey's voice, instantly wiping whatever Bubby was about to say clean from his tongue. The pair watched him as Benrey continued to soak himself in tears. 'He's gonna **DIE**.'

'He's not going to die! Stop being so dramatic!'

'He's right, Benrey! Unless Fakedon manages to throw up his entire lung capacity, then he should be fine-'

'His entire **_WHAT_**.'

By then, Forzen, Darnold, and the G-Man had entered the scene, hearing the commotion long before they'd even been near the kitchen. Benrey remained curled up in the sink.

'O-oh dear, poor Dr Fakeman! Has he really gotten worse?' Darnold fretted, ringing his hands together. 'What should we do? There has to be some way we can help him out!'

'What hurt him?' Benrey asked with unnaturally wide, watery eyes. 'We-we can't let that stand bros, whatever made 'im sick's gotta go like, _now_.' 

'Well, it could be a whole host of things!' Dr Coomer took on his "I am about to recite an entire Wikipedia article" pose. 'If Fakedon is feeling nauseous, it could be a list of any of these: 1.1, Gastrointestinal; 1.2, Food Poisoning; 1.3, Medications; 1.4 Pregnancy; 1.5, Disequilibrium-'

'You even remember the _numbers-_ '

'1.6, Gynecologic; 1.7, Psychiatric; or 1.8, Potentially Serious!'

'I know like, five words off that list, maximum.' Forzen supplied. 

'If I were to take an estimated guess, I'd say it could be food poisoning!' Dr Coomer said, before tapping his chin. 'I highly doubt it to be heat stroke, given that it is winter, and I doubt it could be anything else on that list. ... Or perhaps it's maybe medication related ...?'

'So it's the fridges fault?' Benrey cut in, a slight waver to his voice. 'Do we-do we need a new one?'

'NEW FRIDGE POG' Forzen screamed, not quite at the top of his lungs.

'And if we are, to blame the fridge, it would be accurate to also place the blame on the, contents, within, hmm?' The G-Man wheezed, hands behind his back, an air of seriousness about him. 'Perhaps it is time for, a drastic, improvement, in terms of both storage, and, freshness, in all of our living quarters.'

'Ugh, grocery shop? I hate grocery shopping.' Bubby sighed with a deep set scowl. 'And cleaning. I _hate_ cleaning.'

'So we gotta get rid of this?' Forzen double checked, pointing at the fridge, looking everyone over. At their nods and cheers of approval, Forzen stepped forward, wrapped his arms around the fridge, full bodily picked it up, and then marched over to the front door. The cables were ripped out and everything inside the fridge was blended together, tubs and containers being thrashed around with _clunks_ and _bangs_. Darnold rushed ahead to open the front door, and without breaking a sweat, Forzen walked into the dark street and dumped the fridge on the sidewalk with a tremendous _crash_ , a noise so loud it made dogs from seven houses down start barking. Liquids leaked out the sides, a mixture of milk and ketchup forming a gross puddle on the pavement. He clapped his hands together and nodded to himself, then returned to the house. 

Bubby discretely set fire to the fridge, which caused Forzen to rush back out and beat it out. From across the street, a pair of raccoons watched the scene with wide, interested eyes.

At 3AM, after Dr Coomer packed away his half sliced beef into the microwave, he, Bubby, and Forzen agreed to go grocery shopping. The G-Man left by himself to find a new fridge to replace the old one, while Darnold retreated to somewhere with a spark of inspiration in his step. The nice thing about where they lived was that most things were still open at ass o'clock in the morning. Benrey had also stayed behind, left in the kitchen sink, still sobbing quietly. 

Gordon walked in an hour later, and had simply stared at Benrey, who was _still_ in the sink. Then he took notice of their lack of fridge. He tapped Benrey's shoulder and asked what the deal was, which elected Benrey to do another soul crushing wail of anguish. Like a koala, Benrey launched himself out of the sink, straight at Gordon's torso, wrapping around him tightly. Gordon's shirt was wet in a flash. All Gordon could do was hold him up and pat his back in confused comfort.

The shoppers returned at 5:30 on the dot, bags filled with all kinds of fruits, vegetables, cans of soup, chocolate, and soda's. At just gone 7, the G-Man returned with a brand new, bigger, better, cleaner, and colder fridge, that he had somehow carried all the way home while it was still in its box. The reformed group (sans Darnold, Benrey and Gordon) wasted no time in replacing the space and stocking it up, Bubby complaining the entire time. After that, they gave the kitchen a good scrub down. Then they moved on to do the same with the living room. And then, apart from the bedroom, literally everywhere else in the house was given a proper run down, with lemon scented bleach and makes-you-sneeze-like-shit polisher. You could practically see your face off the toilet seat, it was so pristine.

Benrey dozed off some time after that, still clinging to Gordon like a lifeline, though Gordon didn't seem to mind. Tommy entered a little bit after that and asked what the fuck was going on. He still didn't leave the bedroom even as the clock hit 6PM.

'What if he really _is_ dead?' Bubby whispered to Dr Coomer, low enough to not be heard by Benrey. 

'Now you hush, Fakedon isn't dead! He is far too strong for that; do have some faith in the lad, dear.' Dr Coomer promised. Bubby could only shrug with an 'eh'.

It was around 9PM before he finally came shuffling down the stairs, Sunkist happily trotting behind him. He looked like hell warmed over, though Benrey could tell that he seemed ten times better than when he'd first seen him. Surprisingly, Benrey didn't bolt from his spot to crush him into a back shattering hug, instead keeping rooted to Gordon's chest, glowing eyes peeking at him. He barely glanced at anyone as he walked to the kitchen, Sunkist keeping in his step. He was silent for five seconds.

'What the fuck happened to the fridge.'

'Ah! An excellent observation, Fakedon! Well, it really is quite simple.' He shuffled into the doorway of the living room and waited for Dr Coomer's answer, Sunkist hovering by his leg. Dr Coomer clapped his hands together, his smile wide and bright. 'Your old refrigerator was horribly haunted, so we went ahead and got you a newer, unhaunted one!' He could only pull a confused face at that. The next thing he knew, Darnold was in front of him, a beaker clutched close to his chest.

'Hello, Dr Fakeman! I heard you were feeling quite under the weather, so I constructed this for you!' Darnold thrust the beaker at him; it held a drop of yellow liquid that fizzled and bubbled, which he eyed suspiciously. 'It is a new invention I concocted, literally today! I call it, "Healing Aid"! It is a mixture of herbs and mints with a dash of a secret ingredient! I'm sure it'll help you with your stomach bug!' He took it with extreme caution, blearily eyed it, then downed it in one shot without a second thought. He cringed once the drop was gone, a full body shiver racking his body.

'Ah fuck,' He said intelligently. 'T-thanks, Darnold.' Darnold beamed him a bright smile and flashed him an encouraging thumbs up. 'So uh, t-the fridge. Did you at least take the cake out?' He could already feel the effects of the concoction working, the queasiness quickly being replaced for a comfortable blankness.

'Cake? What cake?' Bubby rose a brow, and he let out the most soul crushing sigh that any of them had ever heard. 'Aren't you too sick for cake right now?'

'Not in a weeks fucking time I ain't gonna be, no.' 

'Ah, we're sorry, Fakedon! If you'd like, we could bake you a new one!' He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. Shivered as a fresh wave of sickness ripped through his body before it dulled down again, then did another little sigh. Then, he nodded with a lazy shrug, defeated. 'Splendid! I do love a good bake!'

'Well, I'm uh, I'm gonna get some water then head back to bed.' He thumbed over his shoulder to the stairs, and he was met with a soft cheer of agreement from the group. Several calls of 'we hope you're doing better!' and 'shout if you need anything!' followed him where he went, and soon, with Sunkist behind him, he retreated back to the bedroom with a bottle of water in hand. 

It was another full day before he left the bedroom again, looking far better. His face wasn't sunken, skin less ashen, far more alert and lucid than before. The second his foot hit the bottom of the stairs, Benrey flung himself at him with the speed of a cannon ball, gangly limbs wrapping around his middle so tight, it threatened to revert him back into a sickened state. It was enough to knock him flat on his ass, landing on the bottom step with a shocked grunt, wrapping an arm around Benrey to hold him up.

'Wow bro, glad you ain't uh, not dead. Or stinky anymore.' Benrey said, monotone as ever, muffled from his face being burrowed in his neck. 'That would've been uh, been a big sucks, if you'd died.' He couldn't respond to that, so he lightly squeezed around Benrey in a returning grip. 'Oh uh, the guys all baked a cake for you, but it's not a gamer cake so it sucks.' The smell of something sweet wafted to him right on cue. Sunkist barked, so strong it rumbled the walls, and she charged down the stairs, shoved passed the stair cuddlers, and broke into a mad sprint to the kitchen, where Tommy loudly cooed at her arrival.

'I'm not carrying you there.' Is all he said to Benrey. With a grumble, Benrey slid off him to stand in front of him, and he let Benrey pull him up. 'And uh, thanks. ... Thank you.' Benrey flashed him a sharp grin, and nothing more was said as they headed to the kitchen.

Forzen gave him tomato soup, fresh and steaming. Bubby called him a 'strong bitch'. He thanked Darnold for his liquid invention, stating he felt 'better than ever' and that it 'really fucking helped, holy shit, what the fuck was that?', and then he thanked them for the new fridge, and the deep clean, and for their support. Gordon replied that he had no idea what was happening and that no one ever told him shit. They laughed about it.

And nah, the cake wasn't very gamer-esc, and it was pretty shoddy - the icing was wonky, the entire thing slanted too far to the right, and it was 90% chocolate and 10% sponge, but it _was_ damn good. He reasoned that it tasted so good because it had been baked by friends.

...

Damn. That's some sappy shit, huh.

When he looked out the living room window, he saw both his old fridge and the cake he'd been saving left in the middle of the street, currently being consumed by a pair of raccoons. He quietly mourned for what could have been, then went back to gorging his newer, better slice of cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot stress this enough: thank you all so fucking MUCH for all the comments and kudos'. holy shit. this shit has like 200 kudos' and so many comments and I re read every single one and go fuck shit man!!! fuck shit!!! it really means the world to me!!!! thank you so much!!!! 
> 
> deleted part I was thinking of adding but it didn't fit literally anywhere:  
> 'hey Fakedon wanna play Don't Starve Together I added like a sick kitchen and more meat racks and also a big decorative place it's totally pog bro'  
> 'you burnt the kitchen I spent two fucking hours working on didn't you'  
> 'wuh'  
> 'Benrey I was gone for like TWO DAYS'  
> 'oh yeah I also fought Ancient Fuelweaver and Ancient Guardian too lol'  
> 'you WHAT'


End file.
